Before I Fall
by RorshachBrain74
Summary: By the time they realize that they're closer than they ever intended to be, it will be too late to quit. Draco/Hermione.
1. Brand New Day

There were some things Hermione Granger loved.

Books.

Knowledge.

Harry and Ron, her two best friends in the entire world.

The smell of the musty, old books at the library at Hogwarts.

But most of all, she loved her position of power as a prefect at Hogwarts. Now, don't get her wrong, she never abused it, which was more than she could say for _some_ blonde-headed Slytherins. Hermione just loved that fact that she could change things for the better at Hogwarts.

This was why she was so anxiously anticipating the letter from Hogwarts about the upcoming school year. The choice for which two prefects were going to be Head Girl and Boy were going to be disclosed in that letter, and Hermione knew-she just_ knew_-that she was going to be chosen for Head Girl.

Ron had been hoping all summer that he would be chosen for Head Boy, but Hermione secretly thought that Ron Weasley being Head Boy was kind of a long shot. Harry had informed her about what Dumbledore had said to him, about him not wanting to gift Harry with the role of prefect because he didn't want to put anymore pressure on the young man's shoulders. So Dumbledore chose Ron instead, a choice that Hermione thought could have been rethought a little bit better.

She loved Ron, truly she did. But he was ruled by his emotions and his stomach, and didn't use his seat of power in the best way possible to benefit Hogwarts and its students. He wasn't as bad as, say, Malfoy, but he wasn't averse to taking his anger out on some first years on occasion.

Malfoy.

A little, nagging voice in Hermione's head-a voice that she tried fervently to gag and shut up-constantly worried that Malfoy would be chosen as Head Boy. The only other viable option would be Ernie Macmillan, but with N.E.W.T.S. coming up this year, she knew that he would want every available moment to study and that there was a great possibility that he would turn the honor down. Ernie was smart, and his slightly pompous ego would take a huge stroke knowing that he had been chosen for the role of Head Boy. But that very same ego would also take a huge hit if he allowed the prospect of power to distract him from his studies and cause him to fail.

So if Ernie was chosen and he turned it down, there was a great chance that Malfoy would be Head Boy.

Hermione shuddered. It was common knowledge that the Head Boy and Girl shared a dorm, because they needed a space to work with all the responsibilities bestowed upon them without the interference of the other students. The concept of sharing a dorm with Malfoy for a whole year was a little bit daunting.

She wasn't scared of Malfoy, not in the slightest. Hermione had proven that all the way back in third year when she had slapped the annoying little ferret across the face. She giggled at the memory of Malfoy's shocked expression and the vivid pink imprint of her hand on the side of his face.

No, Hermione wasn't scared of Malfoy. But his constant insults and referring to her as a mudblood got tiring. He always managed to say just the right thing to get under her skin. A whole year of that, and she just might lose her sanity. Really, couldn't the boy come up with better insults? The phrase 'filthy little mudblood' only had so many uses before the sting left the insult.

The funniest part of the fact that Malfoy calling her a filthy mudblood was that she was neither eternally filthy or had mud running throught her veins, so it really wasn't hard to laugh in his face whenever the phrase dropped from his lips. However, when he called her ugly or undesirable...

Hermione knew she wasn't supermodel gorgeous, but she also knew she wasn't hideous or even ugly, especially after she got Madam Pomfrey to alter her teeth back in their fourth year. Her eyes were the color of melted chocolate, an inherited trait from her mother that she was quite proud of. The mouth that spewed off so many correct answers was small but defined, her lips not too thin or too pouty. However, all of Hermione's prettiest features got slightly overwhelmed by the riotous mass that was her hair.

She remembered with a shudder how bushy it had been during their first year, before Hermione had discovered Muggle hair products. Her mother hadn't been exaggerating when she said that Hermione's hair was like a curly brown tumbleweed on her scalp. Over the summer, Hermione had deviated from the usual tradition of spending her time at the Burrow and had instead invited Ginny to her house, wanting some one-on-one girl time. During a leisurely stroll through the mall close to Hermione's house, the pair had stumbled across a store that boasted of having products that would tame even the most difficult of hair. Hermione, intrigued, had allowed herself to be tampered with by the adorably gay male hairdresser. The store advertisements hadn't lied; in under a half hour, Hermione's unruly curls were calmed to silky ringlets that hung halfway down her back. Unbelievably grateful, both Hermione _and_ Ginny had hugged the hairdresser. He showed Hermione which products to buy and how to use them, and ever since Hermione had been proud to say that she was actually somewhat pretty.

"Hermione, there's an owl at the kitchen window!" Hermione heard her mother call.

With a speed that Hermione was sure wasn't quite humanly possible, she darted down the stairs and landed clumsily on the kitchen floor. Her parents laughed at her eagerness while she scowled at her own lack of balance and let the owl in that was tapping on her kitchen window.

_List of school books...class schedule...reminder of everything that is banned...aha!_ Hermione was right. The gleaming golden Head Girl badge almost sparkled against the creamy white of the parchment.

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_I am pleased to inform you of the decision regarding your Head Girl status for this school year. After a long period of revision, you were selected for the position..._Hermione's eyes skimmed the letter, searching for the most important part..._The Head Boy for the impending school year will be Draco Malfoy. Please meet with each other in the Head compartment on the Hogwarts train preceeding your arrival to the school to get further acquainted with each other. _

Well, there it was, just like she had predicted. Malfoy was Head Boy. The thoughts that were beginning to swirl around in her braid regarding what ghastly experiences she was sure to have this year were shelved away, to be dealt with at a later date, preferably never.

"Mum, I was right! I'm Head Girl!"

000

The remainder of Hermione's summer was spent avidly preparing for what was sure to be a stressful seventh year at Hogwarts. Ron, Harry and Ginny had all wholeheartedly congratulated Hermione on her newfound Head Girl status, and Hermione was glad to see that Ron seemed rather content to simply remain a prefect.

Hermione's mother, much to Hermione's chagrin, forced her to go on a pre-school year shopping trip. Hermione had tried to worm her way out of it, however unsuccessfully _that_ had been.

"But Mum, we wear uniforms. I don't need dresses and other fancy clothes!"

"Hermione, I know you don't have to wear that uniform during weekends and whenever you guys go out to that Hog Meet place."

"It's Hogsmeade, mum. And fine. Buy me whatever you want, but I can't guarantee that I'll wear it. And I want a trip to the bookstore, too! If you're going to drag me through the mall, I at least want a reward."

Hermione's mother burst into laughter at her daughter's tortured expression. "Deal. You know, seeing as you found a sort of revelation this summer with your hair, I thought you might want to impress the people at that school of yours. Goodness knows you talk about those boys of yours a lot. Ron and Harry, right? You're seventeen, Hermione, it's perfectly natural for you to start looking at them beyond a mother hen/sister point of view..."

"Mum! That will never in a thousand years happen! Harry is into Ron's sister, and I love them both like brothers. Trust me, there is absolutely no romantic feelings there. We're best friends; nothing more, nothing less."

Hermione's mother had to concede defeat there. It was obvious that her only child would not be swayed on the matter of romantic affiliations. Oh well. Maybe this year...

Hermione was glad when her mother dropped the subject and resumed going through the many colored shirts on the rack in front of her. Hermione had already been forced to have this conversation with her father, grandmother, and her favorite aunt. Her father had been relieved when she had fervently stated that there was little to no chance of her becoming attached to anyone in that sense any time soon. Hermione's grandmother, true to form, had inquired as to when she could be expecting grandchildren, a question that had Hermione simultaneously choking back hysterical laughter and wanting to go fall in a hole and die.

The conversation with her aunt had been the most interesting. Her parents had given her the sex talk when she was young, after she had come across the term in a book at the library. They went into further detail when she was about thirteen. But it was her aunt that told her everything she knew, much to Hermione's embarrassment. Most of the time Hermione was positive that her favorite aunt said all these graphic things just to make her squirm.

August 31st was spent gloriously lounging by her family's pool doing absolutely nothing, a rarity for Hermione. She had exactly twenty-four hours left before she had to return to Hogwarts, and she wanted one last day of relaxation before being thrust into the most hectic year she'd ever had.

Plus, her tan was fading.

000

"Merlin...Hermione? Is that you?"

Hermione smiled at the look of sheer shock on her two best friends' faces. She hadn't bothered yet to change into her Hogwarts robes, so Hermione was still wearing one of the dresses her mother had purchased for her on their shopping extravaganza a few days previously. This particular dress was her favorite, a light, swingy white eyelet lace halter dress that showed off the newly renewed tan on her shoulders to perfection.

"Yes, it's me. You two don't recognize your own best friend?" Hermione joked.

The shock on Harry's face passed quickly, replaced by a smile. He hugged her, a tight affair that had Hermione gasping for breath. Maybe spending the summer away from the Burrow was a bad idea, because Hermione was pretty sure that there would be light bruises on her ribs from where Harry's arms were crushing her abdomen.

Harry released her and once again noted that she did indeed look wonderful, even going so far as to tug on her tamed ringlets.

"I see you aren't exactly the reigning bushy hair queen, now. It looks nice, Mione." Harry laughed at Hermione's indignant expression when he called her the bushy hair queen, but he knew that Hermione knew that he meant it all in jest.

The next minute or so was spent awkwardly waiting for Ron to speak. He was just gaping at Hermione, his mouth opening and closing like a dumbfounded fish. Ginny took the liberty of joining the trio and elbowing her brother in the stomach.

"Merlin, Ron, stop staring. It's just Mione. If it's taken you this long to realize that she's an outstandingly beautiful girl, then you just don't deserve her." Ginny quipped, only half joking. Ginny knew that there was a small part of her brother (that grew larger every day) that was beginning to open his eyes and realize that Hermione wasn't going to stay a bookworm forever, oblivious to all the boys at Hogwarts. That fact held especially true now, because Hermione had finally taken the initiative over the summer and started to actively do something about her appearance. Granted, she wasn't as girly as Lavender or Parvati, and Ginny doubted that she ever would be, but hey. It was a start.

"Come on, boys, let's go find a compartment." Ginny took Harry's hand (not going unnoticed by Hermione) and led him onto the train. Hermione did the same thing, although with Ron's upper arm instead of his hand. As he was still staring at her newfound beauty, she didn't want to lead him on and make him believe that they had any romantic future together.

OOO

It took Draco Malfoy until almost 11 o'clock to board the Hogwarts Express. _Stupid fangirls, _he thought. _I'm bloody seventeen years old, why would I possibly want a first or second year girl drooling over me?_

Annoyingly enough, his mother had predicted this very scenario that morning, over breakfast. What had initially been a teary mother moment as Narcissa lamented the loss of her only sons' boyhood quickly turned into a laughing fest between his mother and father as they joked over how handsome Draco had become, and how he was bound to have the lower grades' females throw themselves at him.

_Damn you, Mother. Always right._

A small portion of Draco's brain was grateful for the lateness of his arrival on the train, because it meant that most everybody had already found a compartment. His feet tried to follow tradition and direct him to the Slytherin-reserved compartments at the back of the train, but Draco knew better. In those compartments rested the clingy, painted nails of Pansy Parkinson, something that he would rather not confront. If the younger girls were this bad, he had no idea what Parkinson might do when she saw him.

So he took his feet and went to the front of the train, where he knew the Head Girl and Boy's compartment was. Foolish as he was, Draco had discarded the letter from Dumbledor as soon as he saw his badge, so he had no idea who this year's Head Girl was. As he got to the sliding doors of the compartment, his view of the girl inside was marred by the luggage he was trying to stow in the overhead storage space. After that was settled, he straightened out the black t-shirt that had ridden up on his chest as he put up his bags. No matter how poorly he thought of Muggles, he had to acknowledge that their sense of style and comfort was far superior than wearing robes in the heat of summer, a thought seemingly mirrored by the only other person inhabiting the confined space of the compartment.

The girl was small, probably a whole foot shorter than his six feet four inches once she stood. Her legs were propped up on the seat across the tiny aisle of the compartment, legs crossed daintily at the ankle displaying a strappy type of sandal that Draco didn't know the name of. the girl was wearing a white dress with an interesting lace pattern on it, one that nicely complemented her smooth, tan skin. Glossy brown curls hung down the girls' back, hair that Draco could easily see himself tangling his fingers into. It took quite a bit of self-control to not just reach over and grab one of the tantalizing curls, to see if they were really as soft and silky as they looked.

He was already attracted to her, and he hadn't even seen her face yet.

Damn.

The girl was reading a book that Draco couldn't see the name of, and her curls were servicing as a makeshift curtain between her and him so that she couldn't see his face and he couldn't see hers. Draco cleared his throat, making sure that he didn't sound nervous or flustered at all when his voice hit the air.

The girl looked up, eyes the color of melted chocolate meeting his own gray ones.

There was something familiar about this girls' gaze...inquisitive and open, like a child on their first day of kindergarten, awaiting new information.

A gaze that Draco was positive he had seen, but where?

The answer hit him like a ton of bricks to the stomach. _Fuck._

"Granger?"

OOO

**A/N: Reviews would be greatly appreciated. GREATLY appreciated. **


	2. For The First Time

"Granger?"

Hermione laughed outright at Malfoy's shocked expression. Knowing his arrogance, she surmised that he hadn't even bothered to read the whole Head Boy letter beyond claiming his badge, so he would have no idea that she was Head Girl.

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"What the bloody hell are you doing in the Head compartment?"

Hermione stood up to place the book she had just finished into her carry-on bag. "Funny thing, Malfoy. They actually decided that they just might need a Head Girl this year, and I guess that Dumbledore figured that I'd be good for a go." She smirked at Malfoy's face, which quickly jumped from shocked to peeved when he realized internally that he'd be sharing a dorm with Hermione for a whole school year.

"You mean, you and me. Will be sharing...living quarters. For a whole year?" Draco's mind was racing. Living with Granger for a whole year was sure to be torturous on his part. _Associating with mudbloods_...Draco shuddered.

But one more subtle glance over Granger, and Draco subliminally deduced that maybe spending a whole year in a dorm alone with Granger might not be a bad idea. He was right in assuming that he was almost a foot taller than her; the top of her head barely reached his neck. Draco once again noted the melted chocolate color of the eyes that were surrounded by a thick rim of dark lashes, lashes that he knew were unfortunately completely natural because Granger never bothered with the make-up stuff that most girls her age were obsessed with. The only thing that Draco could tell that Granger tampered with was her hair. It used to lay on her head like it had been shocked with a million volts of electricity, but now the curls had been tamed into dark honey-colored ringlets.

Draco caught himself staring at Granger and mentally slapped himself. No matter how pretty Granger might seem, she was still Granger. More importantly, she was still a mudblood. No amount of newfound gorgeousness would change that.

_Gorgeousness? Draco, you're losing your touch. Maybe you need to find those screaming girls again if you've started referring to Granger as being gorgeous._

"Yes, Malfoy. You and I will be sharing the Head dorm for the entire school year, seeing as we are Head Girl and Head Boy. Now, that won't be a problem, will it?" Hermione had not missed the brief moment where Malfoy had checked her out, and for the millionth time that summer sent a silent thank-you to the wonderful man that introduced her to the products that transformed her hectic frizzfest into pretty curls. Noticing Malfoy's brief moment of vulnerability, she took a tiny step towards him, close enough that she could smell whatever cologne he wore. Hermione had to admit, it wasn't an entirely disgusting scent.

"No, no problem at all. Just keep your mudblood germs off my stuff, and everything will be fine." Draco expected Granger to be offended by his words, or even hurt. But her eyes twinked with the promise of laughter and she chuckled, the smell of the mint gum she was chewing wafting up towards the general vicinity of his nose. Granger took another unexpected step towards him, their chests touching now.

"Aww, is the little ferret afraid of some mudblood germs? How cute." Hermione smirked as she watched Malfoy sputter at her remark. _You'd think that by now, he'd have learned to stop calling me a mudblood. I'm not a meek little second year anymore, I will fight back and I WILL win._

"Cute? Granger, I am not cute. I have been called lots of things: sexy, handsome, well buillt, perfect, magical, unbelievable, irresistable-"

"You're forgetting modest."

"-But cute is not one of those things, is it? I haven't been cute since I was a toddler, and I will not be referred to as such now."

"Say what you will Malfoy, but seeing you flail like a fish out of water is still adorable."

"So you think I'm adorable?"

"Did I say that? No. In all honesty, I find your physical countenance a turnoff. Anybody who spends that much time in front of a bathroom mirror is bound to care more about themselves than anyone else. I merely insinuated that I thought your momentary vulnerabilty was endearing, like a small child caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar."

"Granger, I was not vulnerable! I was just...momentarily distracted by something. And what's with the extensive lexicon? I mean, I get that you can't really have a fulfulling conversation with the Weasel and Scarhead, since they're both blathering idiots. There's no way Scarhead and Weasel treat you with anything close to the respect even a mudblood like you deserves. Bloody hell, I hate you and I still treat you like another fellow intelligent, sentient being. Haven't you been basically doing their homework for them since first year?"

"That's none of your business, Malfoy. My friendship with Harry and Ron is absolutely none of your concern. But if we are breaching the topic of questionable friendships, lets not forget Crabbe and Goyle, shall we? It's not like they're chock full of helpfulness." Gods, this felt good. Hermione hadn't had a decent, intellectual conversation with someone in forever, and she was relishing it now. She supposed she should be put off by the fact that the someone she was conversing with was Malfoy, but at the moment she didn't care. Hermione also appreciated the somewhat backhanded compliment he gave her, about her deserving more out of her relationship with Harry and Ron. Nobody ever remarked on the fact that she carried three times her workload, and was best friends with two people who were below her intellectual level, no matter how good their hearts and personalities were. She loved Harry and Ron, really. But sometimes she wanted to have a conversation like the one she was having with Malfoy at that moment, where two people could use words over three syllables and not be looked upon as if they were out of their bloody minds.

"Crabbe and Goyle aren't friends so much as they're...insurance. I'm much closer to Zabini than I am to Crabbe and Goyle. But unfortunately, Zabini isn't as intimidating and I actually do have some people in this school that I need to be protected from." Unbeknownst to Hermione, Draco was enjoying this conversation too. He was close to Zabini, yes, but the majority of his time was spent in the company of the daft Crabbe and Goyle.

"So it's not just me then?"

Draco tilted his head quizzically. "What are you on about, Granger?"

"You call Blaise 'Zabini'. I thought it was just me that you called by my surname, until I noticed you calling Crabbe and Goyle by their surnames as well. So I expanded my theory to include anybody that you are not particularly fond of. I guess I was wrong on that aspect, too. Why do you refer to everyone by their surname instead of their first names?"

"I don't call everyone by their surnames. Scarhead and Weasel? I don't call them Potter and Weasley, I call them Scarhead and Weasel."

"Yes, but those are offensive nicknames, and that's worse. Answer my question: Why are you more comfortable calling people by their last names?"

By this point, the pair had sat down. Hermione resumed her position of stretching her short legs across the aisle, and Draco had done the same. Hermione smiled as she watched Malfoy squirm before answering her.

"I don't know, okay? I just am. It's how I've always been. That's not going to change anytime soon, Granger."

"I was just asking. And since I made you feel uncomfortable, you can ask me one question, no holds barred."

"And what makes you think I want to know anything about you?" Draco said as one of his eyebrows lifted.

"Because, Malfoy, I'm a mystery to you. You hate the fact that I'm smarter than you, disproving your father's completely insane theory that pureblood wizards are supposed to be smarter than mudbloods. You wonder why I remain friends with Harry and Ron even though our relationship is unequal. Although you will never admit it, you are secretly in amazement that I'm not the same bushy-haired, bucktoothed know-it-all that I have become reputable for and have actually become pretty. A part of you despises yourself for even thinking that I'm anything but a worthless mudblood, but you can't help it. We are surrounded by people who are levels below us intellectually, that has never changed. I'm like a puzzle you'll never be able to crack, and that keeps you intrigued. Per who you are, you want to know my weaknesses and try to gain something that you can use against me. So again, I give you one free question."

Malfoy just sat there for a minute in complete silence, floored. Everything Granger had said had been spot on, and he would have suspected her of reading his mind if Bellatrix hadn't taught him to be such a good Occlumens. Granger was right, he would never admit half the things she had just said out loud. It would go against everything he stood for.

Still contemplating what his one free question would be, Draco slid down the compartment seat so that he was directly seated in front of Granger. He lifted her dainty, tanned legs and rested them on his knee so he could look her directly in the eyes, wanting to get the full experience of seeing Granger perform so brilliantly in what was truly her comfort zone, not just the lazy intellect she kept in check around their schoolmates.

"Any question I want, you say?"

"Any question you want."

"No holds barred?"

"Nope."

Malfoy harrumphed for just a moment before a mischievous glint appeared in his steely gray eyes. "Okay then, Granger. What I want to know is, who do you think you'll end up with in the end? Scarhead or Weasel?" He smirked as his question registered in Granger's eyes, and shock rendered her silent.

"What do you mean, who I'll end up with in the end?"

"Exactly that, Granger. Come on, don't pretend you don't know that there have been bets circulating about this ever since the three of you became nigh inseparable after that ridiculous mountain troll incident back in first year. Smart money is obviously on Scarhead, because Weasel is simply too much of an insufferable arse for you to hold a long-term relationship with."

Hermione chuckled. "Do you really believe that you have the liberty to call anybody else insufferable, Malfoy?"

"Stop avoiding the question. Which is it, Granger: Scarhead or Weasel?"

"The answer to your question is really quite simple, Malfoy: neither. I love them both to pieces, but like one would love their brother. Harry is infatuated with Ron's sister, and Ron...Ron is just Ron. I'm secretly hoping that Ron ends up with Luna, because they are very compatible. The idea of being romantically partnered with either Harry or Ron makes me slightly nauseous. Even if I had been considering either of them, which I'm not, the fact that people are wasting their money on who will end of with who is rather repulsive and I would wind up intentionally marrying someone different just to cause all of those foolish people to lose their hard-earned galleons."

Draco laughed at her answer, a typical Granger response. His laughter caused his eyes to deviate from Granger's face and out of the compartment window, where the sun had set over the mountains and the sky was beoming increasingly darker.

"We better get in our robes, Granger. The Head Boy and Girl should look sharp on the first night."

Hermione nooded and removed her feet from the tops of Malfoy's knees so she could stand and grab her carry-on bag, where her robes and newly polished Head Girl badge were stowed.

In the process of grabbing her own bag, she accidentally dropped Malfoy's dark green carry-on onto the floor. Hermione picked it up and handed it to Malfoy with a muttered, not fully sincere apology.

"What did I say about you touching my things, Granger? I thought I told you that I didn't want mudblood germs tainting my possessions."

"Oh, is the poor little ferret going to go whine to his daddy that a mudblood touched his stuff? I'm sure Luscious would absolutely love hearing that." Hermione snickered.

Malfoy was about to retort when something that Hermione had said made him stop in his tracks. "My father's name is Lucius, Granger, not Luscious."

"I know what I said, Malfoy." Before he could hex her for making an inappropriate joke about his father's ridiculous name, Hermione dashed out of the compartment.

_Take that. Mudblood-1, Malfoy-0._

OOO

Hermione was sure that she got shorter and shorter every year. A second year had just come up to her and offered to show her the way to the Great Hall! Hermione had somewhat haughtily informed him that no, she was not a first year, she was actually the Head Girl.

She heard the hysterical laughter before she saw the blonde-headed demon whose mouth she knew it was coming out of. Because they were the Heads, they had to stay outside longer than everyone else to make sure that there were no straggling first years before the Sorting.

"I always knew you were unnaturally tiny, Granger. Maybe you should invest in some Skele-Gro, try to get up to the height of a normal person."

"Malfoy! Five foot four is a perfectly decent height, thank you! Maybe you boys should stop being Amazon freaks."

"You just got mistaken for a first year. I think that's perfectly good justification for wanting to not be a midget any longer."

"Whatever, ferret boy. Do you see anymore first years? The sooner they get the Sorting over with, the sooner we get to eat and I'm positively famished."

Malfoy laughed. "No, I didn't see any. I think it's a safe bet that McGonagall has them all cowering in the Great Hall."

Not wasting any time, Hermione walked into the Great Hall and slid in to her designated spot inbetween Harry and Ron.

"Merlin, Mione, where were you? We haven't seen you since we boarded the train." Ron and Harry looked genuinely concerned for her well-being, and they didn't even know that she had spent the train ride in the company of Malfoy.

"I was in the Head compartment, letting Malfoy know of our responsibilities and such for this school year."

Shocked silence rolled off her two best friends in waves, and it took them a minute to regain their composure.

"Malfoy? The ferret is Head Boy? The bloody ferret is Head Boy?" Ron said, indignant.

"Yes, Ronald. Malfoy is Head Boy this year. I don't like it anymore than you do, and I'm the one that is actually having to share a dorm with him. Now can we please drop it? The Sorting is almost over and I'm starving. I want a few minutes of non-ferret talk before I have to join him in debriefing the prefects about the passwords and such."

The Sorting finished, and food appeared on everyone's plates. Ron ate like a beast, per usual, and Hermione tried not to get sick watching him inhale his food like a human vaccuum cleaner.

OOO

Two hours later, Draco and Hermione had successfully gotten everybody where they needed to be and located the Heads' dorm, behind a portrait of two young children playing with a baby dragon.

The dorm was classily furnished, but not ostentatious. The common room was thankfully not decorated in red and green, which would have given the whole area a rather Christmas-y feel that would have gotten old after the first few weeks. Instead, there were plush leather couches scattered across the room in various shades of gray, which nicely complemented the stone walls and the roaring fire warmed the room.

Draco, accustomed to the cold bleakness that was the Slytherin dorm, was pleasantly surprised. Hermione would have enjoyed the view, but she felt rather dead on her feet and her only thought was of finding her room and sleeping for a good eight or nine-or twelve-hours. She thanked her lucky stars that today was a Friday and classes wouldn't resume until Monday.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Malfoy. If you know what's good for you, you will not wake me up for any reason before noon."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up at her threat, but he said nothing. He could see how tired she was and although now was a golden opportunity for more teasing, he knew how talented Granger was at curses and he too wanted to get to sleep tonight instead of a trip to the hospital wing.

'Whatever, Granger. Don't forget, we need to go speak to Dumbledore tomorrow after lunch." But Hermione was gone, having finally located the stairwell that led up to the Head Girl's room.

Draco took a page from Granger's book and ascended the stairwell opposite of the one she had climbed up, and was unsurprised to find a handsome dark oak door with the placard "Draco Malfoy" fixed at eye level. Not even bothering to note his suroundings, Draco stripped, fished a pair of pajama pants out of his trunk, and fell down on the bed. A small voice told him that he would regret not sliding under the covers, so he did, and he was asleep almost as soon as his head met the pillow.


	3. Set Fire to the Rain

The feeble early morning light shone weakly through the drapes in Hermione's room. Even with the welcome silence of her own room at Hogwarts, she had still slept fitfully although she had been so tired the night before.

Hermione's dreams hadn't made sense, either. Usually her dreams were somewhat structured, either a replay of something that had happened suring the day that was greatly exaggerated by her imaginative brain or something having to do with the plotline of a book or movie she had seen recently.

Her dreams from the night before had been an incoherent scrambling of various colors and images, with no apparent meaning other than to thoroughly confuse her. Hermione could barely remember her dreams, which was another weird thing. Normally, she could always remember what she had dreamed of the night before.

Deciding to put the whole confusing matter out of her head, Hermione left the warm safety of her room and ventured out into the common room, where she had left her textbooks for this year. She figured that there was no way she would be getting any more sleep, even with the overwhelming fatigue from the day before and the fact that she had only gotten about four hours of sleep.

If the universe was going to be an arse and not let her sleep, she'd at least get a head start on her schoolwork and go through her textbooks.

The stone stairs were surprisingly warm against her bare feet. Hermione was expecting them to be cold, but then she saw the fire that had apparently been kept blazing throughout the night.

As soon as Hermione reached a point in which she could see in the common room, she raised her sleep-bleary eyes. It seemed like she wasn't the only one who hadn't been able to sleep; Malfoy was in the tiny kitchen area, beginning what Hermione hoped was a large pot of coffee.

Not only was he in the kitchen, but like Hermione, he had thought he was going to be alone for quite some time and had therefore not bothered to change out of his nightclothes.

Malfoy's idea of nightclothes were a pair of black pajama pants.

Black pajama pants and nothing else.

SInce his back was turned to her and he gave no inclination that he had heard her come down, Hermione allowed herself five seconds to stare unashamedly at Malfoy before making her presence known.

Merlin, but Malfoy was attractive!

His skin was perpetually pale, but Hermione guessed that he would just look creepy with tan skin. It would clash terribly with his pale eyes and pale hair and cold demeanor. The aforementioned pale skin stretched over muscle that wasn't unlike the muscles that Harry or Ron displayed when they were changing or swimming. Malfoy's muscles were hard-looking, though, more like Harry's where Ron's were softened by all the food he ate.

Hermione marvelled for a few seconds more before Malfoy could turn around and catch her staring at him, something she was sure that she would get mocked mercilessly for if she got caught. She linked her arms above her head and streched, yawning loudly.

Anything it took to stop staring at Malfoy.

OOO

Granger's unexpected yawn took Draco by surprise, and he almost scalded himself with the hot water that he was dealing with. He spun around, prepared to tell her off, when the sight of Granger in her pajamas stopped his words in their tracks.

She stood in front of Draco with her arms stretched up towards the stone ceiling, wearing her pajamas. Obviously, sleep had avoided her as well and she had had the same idea that he did, to get ahead in her textbooks before the official start of term.

Granger's pajamas were...interesting, to say the least. The mudblood wore muggle clothes, a tight blue tank top that rode up when her arms were raised, showing several inches of tan stomach that included her navel. She wore a pair of shorts with stripes that were the same color as her shirt.

_Very short shorts, _Draco noted with a sort of morbid appreciation. He was a teenage boy after all and was bound to notice a nice body even on someone as cringe-worthy as Granger.

_Nice? Bloody hell, nice is an understatement. Not even Pansy..._

"Enjoying the view, Malfoy?"

Draco's stomach leaped into his throat like a frog as he got busted checking Granger out. "Remember what I said on the train about Scarhead and Weasel not appreciating you, Granger? I should have realized that under those baggy robes, there'd be more to appreciate than just a brain." Draco mentally kicked himself; once for ogling a mudblood, a second kick for getting caught, and a third for that mudblood being Granger. He laughed at her shocked face because it seemed that whatever retort she had expected him to make, she sure as hell hadn't expected it to be a compliment.

"Malfoy, did you just...compliment me, or am I still sleeping? Because there's no way that the Malfoy I know would actually say something nice about a mudblood." It was that moment that Draco realized why Granger was sorted into Gryffindor and not Slytherin, besides her blood status.

The bloody girl had no fear.

Not only did she partake in those insane adventures with Scarhead and Weasel, but here she was with him (dressed very indecently, he might add, although it's not like Draco was exactly properly dressed either), comfortably sparring words and calling herself a mudblood just like she would call herself by her own name.

How the hell was he supposed to call her a mudblood when she called herself the same thing? The whole point was the insult value, and now stupid Granger had obliterated it.

"Trust me, you're awake. I don't think you'd be wearing that in front of me if this were a dream, Granger."

"Would I, though? You have no idea what I dream about, Malfoy." Granger winked at him as she crossed the room and entered the kitchen, intent on finishing preparing the coffee that Draco had abandoned.

Draco's pale gray eyes widened at Granger's brazen comment.

_When the bloody hell did Granger grow a pair? _Draco wondered as Granger shoved him out of the way of the sink. The damn mudblood didn't even react as normal girls would at the sight of him topless! The majority of the girls at Hogwarts would be in awe of his muscles, but apparently not Granger.

Draco probably should have guessed, with all the time she spent around Scarhead and Weasel. He knew that while Weasel's abs were probably significantly diminished because of all the food he ate, Scarhead was in just as good of shape as he was. Why would Granger suddenly fall into a puddle at his feet when she had undoubtedly seen the male chest before?

With his inner musings, Draco didn't notice that the coffee was ready until the smell of it wafted around his nostrils, bringing him back to the present. Granger was holding a mug of black coffee under his nose, smirking up at him.

"Thinking about me, Malfoy?" Granger said sweetly. Draco had to admit, if she so choosed, Granger could have quite a successful career as an actress. The expression on her face was so innocently convincing that she could have conned old ladies out of their pensions.

"You wish, Granger. I don't fantasize about mudbloods." Draco snorted, even though Granger had been right.

The smirk on Granger's face intensified. "Who said anything about fantasizing? I just said thinking."

Shit. She had him. So he did the only thing he could do, with him being a Malfoy: he played it off. "Fantasize has the same connotations as thinking does. Now, I assume you came down here for the same reason I did, so how about we take this time to get ahead of the rest of the seventh-years?"

Granger smiled and walked over to one of the couches, grabbing her Transfiguration textbook on the way. She plopped herself down and propped the book up on her knees, curling herself up in such a way that she only took up about half of a cushion, leaving the rest of the couch open to him, if he so choosed. Draco accepted her unspoken invitation and joined her with his Transfiguration book, knowing that it would be more beneficial if they hacked through their subjects together, one at a time.

That was how they spent the three hours before breakfast, helping each other get a head start in what was bound to be the most difficult subject of the year. Draco had expected working with the Gryffindor princess to be uncomfortable and filled with tension, but it wasn't.

Trith be told, it was kind of nice.

**A/N: I would deeply appreciate reviews. :)**


	4. We Weren't Born to Follow

Hermione's eyes slowly opened and she realized that she was back in her bed.

_That's odd. I thought I was in the common room with Malfoy when I couldn't get to sleep?_

She remembered sitting on the couch with one of her textbooks and Malfoy joining her, and she also rememberd the monotony of the text and the early hours of the morning making her eyelids feel very heavy. Hermione assumed that the combination of the two made her start to nod off.

But then how did she get back in her bed? With a blush, Hermione realized that Malfoy must have carried her.

At first, Hermione thought nothing of it. Once Harry and Ron realized how to come up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, they had carried her to bed after she had fallen asleep studying late at night dozens of times. But for Malfoy, who she knew deeply despised her, this was a highly unusual gesture. Then one had to add in the fact that she wasn't exactly decently clothed.

It made for an equation that left Hermione reeling. Why would Malfoy be nice enough to carry her back to bed and put her underneath her covers?

Hermione chalked it up to a feeling of civility. Ever since that analytical conversation on the train, they hadn't really argued. She was trying to be at least a little friendly to Malfoy-despite the history that they'd shared-because it would be very uncomfortable if all they did was fight all year. It appeared that Malfoy was under the same inclination. Secretly it felt nice, knowing that she didn't have to be on edge around him _all_ the time.

She walked downstairs, noting from the light streaming through her windows that it was about the time she should be getting up anyway. Malfoy was sitting on the same creamy leather couch in the common room, reading over his Transfiguration textbook in preparation for the week's upcoming lessons.

"Hey." Hermione said softly, not wanting to scare Malfoy as she had made no noise coming down the stairs.

Despite her soft voice, Malfoy still jumped in his seat at the sudden sound. "Jeez, Granger. Way to scare a bloke."

"Sorry, it's not my fault your nose was stuck so deep into the book that you didn't notice someone coming down the stairs." Her words were cutting, but her tone was full of humor; she was mocking him.

"Har har, like you're one to talk."

Hermione snickered. "Well at least I'm aware of my surroundings when I study. The last time you were this oblivious to what was going on around you, you wound up as a ferret."

Malfoy's alabaster skin reddened a bit as he remembered the disastrous events of their fourth year. "Shut up, Granger. Why are you down here, anyway? Shouldn't you be upstairs asleep?"

"Obviously I woke up. Exactly how unobservant are you aiming to be today? Which reminds me: thank you." Hermione laughed again at Malfoy's flabbergasted expression.

"Thank me? What for?"

"You carried me upstairs into my room and tucked me in bed, all presumably without doing anything inappropriate. It was unusually kind of you, and I wanted to say thanks."

"Oh. Well. It's not a big deal. You looked uncomfortable all hunched over on the couch, and you would have spent all day complaining if you had gotten your neck cramped up. You snore, by the way."

"Merlin, Malfoy, can't you just take a simple thank you without downplaying it? You genuinely did something nice. Accept it. It even involved touching a mudblood, so that's double the niceness. And I know I snore. It's not nearly as bad as Ron's snore, though. That sounds like a jackhammer working its' way through concrete." Hermione said, retaking her position on the couch beside Malfoy and picking up her Potions textbook.

"Ugh. Can we not talk about Weasel? We were having a decent conversation, and I don't want it sullied by thoughts of Scarhead and his bumbling sidekick." Malfoy jumped across the couch and slid onto the floor when Hermione's fist came into forceful contact with his arm. "Damn, Granger! No need to get physical!"

"Don't insult my best friends then!" Hermione raised her clenched fist in order to strike him again, but Malfoy rose to his feet and caught her fist in his hand.

Realizing that his hand completely covered hers, Malfoy burst into laughter.

"What the bloody hell is your problem, Malfoy?"

"Your hands. They're so...tiny! You try to play yourself off as this intimidating know-it-all creature but half the time it doesn't even work because you're just so tiny! Have you even grown since third year?" Malfoy said through his laughter. Of course, he knew that she'd grown. Maybe not height-wise, but in...other...areas.

"In case you haven't noticed, Malfoy, I'm a girl. I'm not supposed to be all big and burly and muscled."

"Of course I've noticed that you're a girl. What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione said nothing and Malfoy's mind went reeling with possibilities. "You mean to tell me that Weasel and Scarhead haven't noticed that you're female? Bloody hell, are they blind? Mudblood that you are, even I've noticed. I thought Weasel was into you?"

Hermione blushed scarlet. "I-they-they know I'm a girl! It's just taken them a while to realize it! And what do you mean, you think Ron is into me? Last time I checked, there wasn't a Weasley inhabiting my intestines!"

OOO

That was the tipping point for Draco. He burst into hysterical laughter, sliding to the floor. The funniest part was that Granger, with all her intellect, hadn't realized the innuendo. Merlin, you'd think someone who's best friends were seventeen-year-old males would recognize that kind of thing when she saw it. But no, she was just standing there above him with a baffled expression on her confused face.

This was just too rich.

Eventually Draco's laughter subsided. He laid there on the ground in quiet contemplation looking at Granger, who during his burst of uncontrollable laughter had sat herself down on the couch.

Draco hadn't been lying when he said that he had definitely noticed that Granger was an active member of the female species. Hell, how could he not realize when Granger was practically parading herself in those tiny shorts and tight shirt? He knew that she didn't know the effect she had on males, but that was no excuse. A mudblood should not be that appealing.

"Are you done mocking me yet?" Granger's haughty voice floated across the common room.

"Maybe. Are you going to go get some growth potion from Snape so you stop having the height of a third year?"

_Smack_. Granger's open palm landed on his bare arm.

"You know, that's the third time you've hit me, Granger." She was constantly surprising him. Even with girls who had significantly purer blood than she, Granger was the only girl to stand up to him. Ever.

"You want to go four for four? Keep pushing the limits of my patience."

"No, thank you. I've had my fair share of physical abuse today."

"Good. Now can you please get off the floor? It's not proper of someone with a blood purity as strong as yours."

Draco laughed. It crossed his mind that he had laughed more in the past day or so with Granger than he had in almost a year, but he dismissed the thought. "If we're going to be making blood status jokes, we could be here a while."

"Fine."

Draco almost choked. "What?"

"I said, fine."

"Fine what?"

Granger snorted. "And you have the nerve to call Ronald and Harry blind. You know, you are blond. Maybe all those blond jokes aren't overstatements...you said that if we were going to start cracking blood status jokes, we could be here a while. Judging from the light coming through the window, we've already missed breakfast. There aren't any classes today, we have our textbooks right here, and food can be sent up to us. We have at least four hours until lunch. So, how about it? It seems like this whole blood purity thing is going to be a big roadblock between us and as much as I hate to say it, you don't make that had of a roommate. I'd appreciate it if we can get over this whole "I'm a pureblood, you're a mudblood" thing so we can actually have some semblance of civility here. This is our last year here, I don't want to spend it fighting. And as we so eloquently put it yesterday, we're pretty much the two smartest people here. I don't want all those potential intellectually stimulating conversations and debates to go to waste. So, do you want to crack the first joke, or shall I?"

Draco was floored. Was Granger actually giving him permission to use all of his saved up mudblood jokes on her? He contemplated silently whether or not this was a trap so she could whale on him again, but then from the smirk on Granger's face he deduced that she was being totally serious. "You know what, Granger? How about this: we save our arsenal of mudblood/pureblood insults and jokes to use some other time. This cannot be a spur of the moment thing, it must be planned out. Treasured. An opportunity like this only comes once in a lifetime, and I want to savor it. How about we decide on a time and place for this, and postpone it until then? That way we have time to filter through everything, to make sure we only bring our best. Well, you need to do that. I'm a Malfoy; we always do our best in everything we do."

"Oh, really? And is that why I'm doing better that you in every class?" Granger smirked at him, a smirk that he patented years ago.

"I might just make you pay me a sickle every time you smirk like that. You learned it from me, because Merlin knows that Scarhead and Weasel don't have enough charm or cunning in them to smirk."

"Oh, is that what that was? Charm? Not likely, charm is reserved for those who are suave and know how to handle themselves around women."

They were standing very close now, less than two hands' length between them. The smirk that was previously on Granger's lips was now a blatantly cheeky grin.

"Malfoys are naturally born with charm, Granger. Trust me, you don't want me to use the full force of it on you. You'll never be able to resist me if I do."

"Hah! You know, I think you have it backwards. Earlier this morning, it was you checking me out, not the other way around. The same goes for yesterday on the train, before you knew it was me. Don't think I don't notice these things. They don't call me the brightest witch of our generation for nothing, Malfoy. So go ahead, try using your so-called 'charm' on me. But don't be surprised if it doesn't go at all according to plan."

_Challenge accepted, _Draco thought. It would be quite satisfying to engage Granger in a battle of wills. He had never failed in charming a witch before, and he certainly was not going to crack first now.

**A/N: Hey, people. Sorry it took me so long to update; my senior year is a cruel master that must be obeyed. It would be absolutely marvelous if you dropped me a line or two using that handy-dandy little review button, it really would. Also, I am drawing blanks as to some good mudblood/pureblood jokes, so if you have anything you can just click that review button and let me know. Anyone whose jokes I wind up using will get credit, I promise. Thanks, and please review! :)**


	5. I'm Not Your Toy

Granger thought that he didn't have the ability to successfully charm her? He'd show her. He was a Malfoy, they were born with so much charm that it seeped through their pores even as babies.

It was the next morning. The pairs' day had ended when Scarhead and that insufferable Weasel had started pounding on the Head portrait, demanding to see Granger. She had invited them into _their _dorm without even asking him what he wanted, if he wanted those two gits in his living space for the year. Granger had left her two friends in the common room while she ran up to her room to change into something that wasn't so revealing. True to her words from earlier, Scarhead and Weasel didn't even acknowledge that they had a scantily clad girl right in front of them. They just ignored it and left with Granger for the rest of the day, doing whatever Gryffindors did. Draco chose to simply stay in the dorm all day, having food sent up from the kitchens and studying his textbooks. He was utterly determined to have better marks than Granger this year.

Draco rose from his bed and into the bathroom that he and Granger shared. A humongous downside to sharing a dorm with Granger for the year: only one bathroom. How the bloody hell was he supposed to properly take care of his appearance when he had to split that bathroom time with Granger? Dumbledore had to be out of his mind.

Foregoing a bath in favor of a quick shower, Draco stepped in and turned on the water. Immediately water began sluicing over his head and down his body, fully waking him. He loaded his hands with shampoo and began to scrub his scalp, momentarily allowing his thoughts to drift to Granger. In the past few days, she had totally defied any of his preconceived notions about her. She was obviously intelligent but not overly obnoxious about it outside of the classroom. While Draco and his housemates had joked somewhat cruelly in the years previous about her being the Gryffindor princess, now Granger actually looked the part. If Draco were the mushy poetic type, he would say that her formerly bushy hair cascaded down her back like a curly brunette waterfall and she had honey-chocolate eyes that he could lose himself in.

Thankfully, Draco wasn't the mushy poetic type.

Pushing all thoughts of the bookworm out of his mind before they ventured into truly dangerous territory, Draco finished his shower, pulled on only a pair of pants and started to work on his hair. Although it looked like it would be silky and smooth to the touch, his hair actually took quite a bit of work. Unlike his parents, who had naturally straight strands, Draco's natural hair texture tended to resemble that of his Aunt Bella's; very, very curly. It had been adorable when he was still a chubby toddler. But as he got older and his face had thinned out, it started to look odd. Narcissa had started magically straightening his hair for him using glamour charms when he was seven, and had taught him how to do it so that he could look presentable at Hogwarts.

Before he had the chance to perform the charm that would turn his head full of unruly blonde curls into the smooth strands that were expected of him, Granger walked in. It crossed Draco's mind for just a moment that he should be embarrassed or at least yell at her to get out, but he did neither of those things. Besides, he figured that it would be far more fun to tease her anyway. Granger was so easy to rile up.

Draco went to open his mouth and shoot a snide remark at Granger, but she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were focused on the tips of his toes and slowly traveling upwards. She raked over his appearance meticulously, a smirk worthy of the Malfoy name on her lips.

"Like what you see, Granger?"

Granger's eyes finally reached his face and she burst out in laughter. "Your-your _hair_! It looks ridiculous!" It took Draco a few seconds to understand what she said. She was laughing so hard that her words were hard to comprehend. As her words dawned on him, he huffed. That's all she had to say? Here he was, baring almost all of his glory, and all she wanted to remark on was his hair? Bloody hell.

"Really, Granger? You get the once-in-a-lifetime chance to view my glorious body and all you're going to do is poke fun at my hair?"

"You're forgetting one crucial detail, Malfoy. Ron and Harry are my best friends. You think that you're the first boy I've seen wet and half naked? Not even close. So I'm sorry, but your body doesn't do anything for me. I apologize for me not being Pansy Parkinson and fawning all over you."

Draco was seething. "Whatever, Granger. What are you doing in here, anyway?"

"There's this thing called a shower, and I need to take one. It's the last day before classes start, and I don't intend to spend it in this dorm quarreling with you. I'd much rather spend it with people whose company I actually enjoy, thank you very much." Granger said, that smirk back on her face. That was his smirk. What right did she think she had to wear it like she did?

"Can you leave for a little bit then? Shower or not, I need to finish getting ready and I can't do it with you in here."

"Why not? Haven't you ever seen a girl naked before?"

"Wha-of course I have, but it's impolite to barge in on someone!" Draco sputtered.

"Too bad for manners then, because I agreed to meet Harry and Ron down by the lake in half an hour and I have no idea how long it takes you to do your bloody hair. You're worse than a girl. So you can just not look." With that, Granger turned her back to him and lifted her shirt over her head. He noticed that her nightshirt didn't display as much as the one she wore yesterday had. This one was a basic black t-shirt that advertised something called a 'Battle of the Bands'. It wasn't too tight on Granger, but it wasn't unduly large either.

"What's a 'Battle of the Bands'?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. A lot of bands come together for a few hours and put on a show for the audience and the audience and a few judges decide which band is the best. It's actually quite fun." Granger had turned back around in order to explain the process to him, and it took everything Draco had to keep his jaw from dropping. Granger was calmly and collectedly explaining some Muggle activity to him whilst wearing nothing but a pair of comfortable-looking flannel mens' sleep pants and a bra!

_A red bra. A red lacy bra. Damn Gryffindor._

"Like what you see, Malfoy?"

"I said it before. I've seen a girl naked before. And to borrow your words from earlier, it doesn't do much for me."

"Actually, I said that your body didn't do anything for me. You saying that I don't do much for you implies that I do something."

"Damn it, Granger! Just go and get in your shower so I can fix my hair in peace?" Draco turned back to the mirror in front of him and raised his wand.

All of a sudden, he found himself wandless. The still shirtless Granger had launched herself across the room and wrenched his wand from his hand.

"Bloody hell! What was that for?"

"I have a challenge for you, Malfoy."

"I don't take challenges from mudbloods."

"And I don't usually offer challenges to purebreds, but you don't see me whining on about it."

Just as he was about to make another snappy retort, Draco caught himself. "What did you just call me?"

"A purebred."

"You just called me a dog!"

"I did not, I called you a purebred."

"The insinuation is still there, Granger."

"What, so you can call me a mudblood but I can't call you a dog? That's such a double-standard."

Draco refused to show that he was hurt by Granger's statement. "What's your challenge, Granger?"

She smiled, a devious grin with obvious mischief in her eyes. "It's rather simple, really. I dare you to go with your hair like that for the rest of the day."

Draco's first instinct was to immediately refuse, but he was a man and wasn't about to make it seem as if he wasn't. But if he left the Head dorm looking like this, his reputation would be screwed. He realized something and mentally smirked, not wanting to let Granger in on his idea; she hadn't specified that he had to leave the dorm.

"Fine, Granger. I'll do it. Now go get your shower." Granger beamed at him and he turned away, facing the mirror again. However, his attention was diverted when the blasted girl resumed taking her clothes off. Against his better intentions, he couldn't look away and he was thankful that her back was to him. The red lacy bra that he was sure would haunt his dreams came off and landed on the floor, quickly followed by her pants.

Draco's mind was quickly getting carried away; after all, he was seventeen and Granger was actually quite attractive. Annoying as hell, but undeniably attractive.

So jumbled were his thoughts that he didn't notice Granger clear her throat the first or second time. But he certainly heard her loud and clear when the third throat-clearing was accompanied by a bar of soap well aimed towards his head.

"As much fun as getting you all flustered has been, Malfoy, I'd rather appreciate it if you'd leave. I have no desire to be fully undressed in your presence."

Draco and his errant thoughts were more than happy to oblige. In his haste, however, he realized that he had missed a golden opportunity to charm her.

_Damn Gryffindor._

000

As soon as Hermione was sure that Malfoy was out of earshot, she let out a loud cackle. Not only was the revelation of his natural hair texture funny enough, but the look on his face when she started to take her clothes off was priceless!

With two males as best friends, Hermione had certainly seen her fair share of the male anatomy. Most of it had started out accidentally, like the time right before third year when she had gone into Ron's room at the Leaky Cauldron to look for him only to find him standing there in only a towel, contemplating his clothing choices for the day. Or the time where she had been waiting for Harry to emerge from the water after that dreadful Second Task in the Triwizard Tournament. He and Ron had finally surfaced and Madam Pomfrey had needed to remove his swimsuit in order to treat his various injuries properly. Hermione had seen more than she intended, but by that point she had read enough books on the subject to only be slightly embarrassed and even then it was only for Harry's sake. After a while, the shock value of seeing your best friend without much clothing coverage just wore off. So today when she had gone to get her morning shower only to find Malfoy there ogling her appearance, she hadn't thought anything of it.

Sure, he had a nice body. Even she had to admit that. But she wasn't about to start fawning over him. That was out of the question. So she reverted to what they did best: witty banter. While they were volleying remarks back and forth, somehow she had slipped into the mindset that she was back at the Burrow, carrying on a conversation with Harry or Ron as she prepared herself for a shower. By the time she realized that she was with Malfoy and not her best friends, the damage had been done. Why not just roll with it? Plus, the expression on Malfoy's face when he saw her standing there in nothing but the bra that Ginny had given her for her birthday and a pair of pants that she had stolen from Harry ages ago was something that she would treasure forever. If she had to put a word to it, it would be flabbergasted. Bewildered. Unraveled.

Glorious.

What Hermione was not prepared for, however, was for Malfoy to see her completely naked. Not even Ron or Harry had done that. Ginny had, but that was different. They were both girls and had the same parts. So after presenting Malfoy with that challenge (and seeing his brain trying to search for a loophole that Hermione had so cleverly come up with a wonderful solution for), she kicked him out of the bathroom.

As she was standing under the stream of water, she thought of what she had come up with last night when she was trying to sleep after her relaxing day with Harry and Ron. Malfoy seemed determined to 'charm' her. The mere thought of Malfoy trying to charm her had her snickering in the shower. Hermione was going to love seeing him try. But why not make his job a little harder? He couldn't possibly try to charm her as well as he thought if he was constantly being bested.

Hermione got out of the shower and Summoned her clothes into the bathroom, not wanting another naked confrontation with Malfoy. After she was dressed she left the bathroom and grabbed her hair products, not wanting her hair to dry into the bushy frizzball it had been for the past 17 years of her life. Convinced that her appearance was satisfactory, she entered the Common room only to see Malfoy with a hoodie pulled tightly over his head.

Hermione snickered. "Really, Malfoy? You really think that a tightly laced hoodie is going to stop the population of Hogwarts from recognizing you?"

"Who said the population of Hogwarts would be in a position where they would have to recognize me? I'm completely comfortable with getting ahead on my textbooks all day." Malfoy quipped, burying himself even deeper in the cushions of the couch.

Really? He thought it would be that simple? Silly boys. They never learned, did they?

Without giving him any warning, Hermione flicked her wand and uttered a nonverbal _Levicorpus_, hoisting Malfoy into the air by his ankles.

"Granger! What the bloody hell are you doing?"

It was sheer hell to hold in her laughter. "Making sure all of those fangirls of yours see your new hairdo, Malfoy. It would be a shame for them to miss this. _Locomotor Mortis_!" Malfoy's upside-down body followed behind her the whole way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Granger, put me down. Now! Bloody hell, you infuriating woman! Do as I say! PUT ME DOWN! Granger! GRANGER!" By the time they reached the Great Hall, Malfoy was shouting furiously and Hermione was laughing. The volume of his shouts increased tenfold as they neared the Great Hall, becoming earsplitting when Hermione opened the door.

"Granger, so help me if you do not put me down this very moment you will regret it for the rest of your life! I will hex you so badly that your dirty-blooded grandchildren will feel it!"

"Now, Malfoy, is that really any way to get yourself down? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, you know." Hermione said in her sweetest voice. This served to only piss Malfoy off more.

"What? Why on earth would I want to catch flies? Let me down, NOW!"

"What's the magic word?"

Malfoy was finally silent. He crossed his arms across his chest and scowled at Hermione, who merely smirked at him.

"Let me down."

"You know what to do."

"I'm not doing it."

"Fine then. See if I care. In the meantime, I'm going to go eat." Hermione made her way to the Gryffindor table and sat down next to Harry and Ron, who were doubled over in laughter along with a fair amount of other students and quite a few teachers. Malfoy's body followed, hovering above the table.

Hermione filled a bowl with milk and corn flakes, ignoring Malfoy's angry glare.

"Mione, as much as we're enjoying this, what exactly is Malfoy doing hanging upside down?" Harry asked.

"Fulfilling a bet."

"What bet?" A curious Harry inquired.

With all the commotion, Hermione had forgotten the bet itself. She abandoned her corn flakes and stood on the bench of the table, reaching for Malfoy. As soon as her hands neared the strings holding the hoodie tight against his scalp, Malfoy swatted them away.

"Don't touch me." The actions were repeated three times before Hermione tired of it and pointed her wand at Malfoy's face, right at the space between his eyebrows.

"Don't make me use this, Malfoy."

He immediately stopped resisting. "Good boy!" Hermione said, talking to him as she would a dog who had done something well. Malfoy simpley scowled, but did not comment.

Hermione removed his hood and magically glued it to his back, revealing his curly mop to the whole Hall.

The effect was instantaneous. The whole room started buzzing with whispers. Even the teachers were frozen with looks of shock upon their faces.

"Granger. Let me down."

"Malfoy, how many times are we going to do this? If you want to be released, you know what to do."

Malfoy silently debated for about four seconds before opening his mouth again. "Granger, please let me down."

"What was that? I'm sorry, the room is so loud with talk of your hair that I couldn't quite hear you." The sugary sweet voice was back in Hermione's voice.

"GRANGER, COULD YOU PLEASE LET ME DOWN?" Malfoy shouted. The Hall, which just a second before had been quite loud with talk, was now so quiet that Hermione could hear a first years' quill drop in shock.

"Of course, Malfoy. No need to be so snippy."

**A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry it took me so long, I have another story I need to attend to also. But at long last, here is chapter 5.**

**Anyone who reviews shall receive a showering Draco! :D **


	6. Granger Danger

Draco would have taken the first opportunity possible to dash back up to the Head dorm and fix his hair, but Blaise and Pansy had taken it upon themselves to torture him by making him sit through breakfast.

"Come on, D, we'd be terrible people if we allowed you to go through this day without a bit of food in you. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know." Blaise quipped, a smirk on his face and one eyebrow cocked above the other. He was obviously enjoying Draco's discomfort with his hair, and he and Pansy had silently agreed to force their best friend to endure this. While they might not have known Granger too well due to her annoying status as a pushy, know-it-all Gryffindor, the opinion that they had of her was starting to slowly change based on what she had done to Draco moments before. Dragging the schools' resident Slytherin prince into the Great Hall upside down and then unveiling his curly hair to all of the students of Hogwarts was admittedly badass and they were somewhat impressed by her actions.

"Whatever, B. If I eat something, can I go and fix my hair?"

"No. Dumbledore told us to tell you that since you and Granger missed your meeting with him yesterday for whatever reason, he needs to see both of you after breakfast." Pansy said, barely even looking above her oatmeal to acknowledge his change in appearance.

Draco was befuddled. In the years past, Pansy had the tendency to be clingy. He assumed it was because his parents had pushed them together practically since birth, predicting marriage between the pair. They had never been more than friends, though, even though sometimes she clung to him in a more girlfriend-y way on some occasions. That was what he had expected now, especially with his growth spurt over the summer and the way he had filled out. He was now just as tall as Scarhead and Weasel, and he didn't look as lanky as he used to. So why was Pansy suddenly ignoring him?

Pansy noticed his confused expression and correctly deduced that it was because she hadn't been fawning all over him like the younger girls had. "D, I love you and I always will. But I met someone over the summer, and as soon as I leave Hogwarts we're going to be married. So tell Lucius and Narcissa that I'm sorry, but it looks as if a Malfoy/Parkinson marriage won't be happening." Pansy said with a smile, nudging Draco in the ribs.

Pansy's casual utterance of Draco's parents' names brought back memories of what Granger had said on the train, and his knuckles turned white around his fork. "Do you know what that psychotic girl said on the train about my father?"

"No, but you're obviously about to tell us, so go ahead. What did Granger say about your dad?" Blaise asked.

"She had the nerve to call him luscious! She thinks she's so clever, playing with words like that. Crazy person."

Draco saw Blaise and Pansy exchange glances and simultaneously burst into gut-busting laughter.

"That's got to be the funniest thing I've ever heard! Merlin, now I'm not going to be able to look at him without wanting to call him that. I must thank Granger for that. As annoying as she can be, she really is quite clever. Luscious!" Pansy managed to get out inbetween peals of laughter.

"Oh, told you about that, has he? I expected him to keep that quiet, but then again, Malfoy never does what I expect him to." Granger said, approaching their table.

"It's brilliant, Granger. How the bloody hell did you come up with that? It's marvelous." Blaise chuckled.

"I was trying to come up with something that would irritate Malfoy the most, and I figured that calling his father Luscious Mouthful would hit pretty close to home."

"Well, Granger, you've succeeded. I am thoroughly annoyed and disgusted. Are you done now?" Malfoy said, forced to raise his voice over Pansy and Blaise's renewed laughter.

"Not quite. Dumbledore needs us, but we can't be us without you. Are you finished with your breakfast yet?"

"Yes."

"No, he's not. He hasn't even touched his food." Blaise said. Draco shot a glare at his best friend, the traitor.

"That's quite alright, I'll make sure he gets some food in him." Granger pushed Draco down on the bench and sat down, loading a napkin up with toast. "Which do you prefer, butter or jam?"

"I prefer to be left alone." Draco mumbled.

Granger ignored him. "Butter, then."

As soon as she finished covering the toasted bread with the requested condiment, she forced the napkin into Draco's hands.

"Get up, then! You can eat it on the way to Dumbledore's office."

Draco seriously debated whether it would be better to follow her orders or hex her on the spot, until he remembered that she had taken his wand and more likely than not would not return it if he did not do as she wished. So he rose from the Slytherin table and followed Granger out of the Great Hall, munching on the toast as they went.

"I'm sorry."

Draco was glad that Granger was in front of him because there was no way he would have been able to keep his toast in his mouth if she had actually said that to his face.

"Excuse me? Say that again, Granger?"

"I said it once, you know what I said, I'm not saying it again. It was wrong of me to force you and your unnaturally curly hair onto the populace. It won't happen again, unless of course you start being a prat and I feel you deserve it." Granger said, turning to face him as she did so.

If Draco hadn't seen her lips move, he would have wondered who on earth would bother impersonating Granger long enough just to trick him.

"Fair enough. I do have to admit, that was quite ballsy of you. I'm proud, in a rather perverse sort of way. Two days in my company and already you're hoisting blokes by their ankles and forcing them into the Great Hall so dozens of admiring fans can see him at his most unattractive. I wonder what will happen later in the year, when I've had more time to rub off on you? Oh, I bet Weasel and Scarhead will just love it." Draco snarked.

Granger snorted.

Bloody _snorted_.

Just when he thought that he had this infuriating girl figured out, she had to go and muck up all of his assumptions. He supposed that he should probably stop assuming things about Granger, if this was going to continue to happen.

"I'd actually quite like to find that out too. I'm sick of just being the brains behind our whole team, just another one of Harry's supposed sidekicks. While I know that I'm more than that, it's just so irritating when that's the only thing that people perceive of you."

Forget mucking up Draco's assumptions of her; now she was just crumpling them up into a little ball and chucking them off the Astronomy Tower. Draco chuckled, partly because he was highly amused but mostly to cover up his utter bewilderment. "You know what, Granger? I might just have been wrong about you. Don't get me wrong, you're still a mudblood. But with what you pulled earlier and that damned ambition, you might as well be a Slytherin."

Again, Granger snorted. "Oh please, Malfoy. Although the Sorting Hat briefly considered placing me in Slytherin, we all know that the day a mudblood gets Sorted into Slytherin is the day that Salazar Slytherin himself arises from the dead and gets hitched to Peeves."

Unable to help himself, Draco burst into laughter that had his stomach cramping. The image of Peeves in a lacy, white wedding gown walking down the aisle to meet Salazar Slytherin was just too good.

"Malfoy, I would sincerely appreciate it if you would compose yourself. This is it." Granger gestured to a stone gargoyle.

"What are you on about, woman? That looks nothing like Dumbledore."

"It's the staircase to his office, you dolt."

"Twit."

"Prat."

"Slag."

"Arse."

"Anyway, are you going to tell me how we're going to get to the headmaster's office from here?"

Granger smirked, knowing full well that she had won because Draco couldn't come up with a better insult. "Of course. Lemon drops," Granger said pointedly to the gargoyle, which began to rotate, revealing a staircase. "And we go up!"

For a headmaster's office, Draco was slightly disappointed. Sure, there were the portraits of headmasters past adorning the walls and fancy trinkets scattered about the room, and nobody could deny the glory that was the red phoenix near the mahogany desk, but this was Dumbledore. Draco half expected there to be a giant mural somewhere detailing the wizened wizards' many achievements.

"Ah, there you two are! Good, good. There is not much we have to discuss, and I am sure that you would rather spend this last day before lessons resume elsewhere, perhaps enjoying each other's company out of doors?" Dumbledore chuckled at the horrified looks on his Heads' faces.

"I guess not. Regardless, I must remind you that nightly patrols must be taken by the two of you, and you must organize the patrol hours of the prefects. I will give the two of you a copy of all the necessary passwords that you will need as they change. You may invite your friends into your dorm as you wish, but please remember that they do not share the same lenient curfew as you do. The house elves are at your disposal if you so choose. Is there anything else?"

Draco shared a brief look with Granger. "No, sir. That should be it."

000

"Harry! Ron, Ginny! Wait up!" Hermione called out to her closest friends. She had managed to shake Malfoy shortly after their meeting with Dumbledore had ended and sought out the company of her friends. Dumbledore had to be barking if he got it into his head that she would rather spend the beautiful day with Malfoy of all people instead of Ron and Harry. Ginny didn't always join them, but it was never a bad thing when she did.

"Mione, that stunt you pulled with Malfoy this morning...bloody hell." Ron said.

"Yeah. It was amazing. What on earth possessed you to do something like that? And his hair, oh, it was magnificent. Who would have guessed that behind that greased-up hair, Malfoy had a mop?" Ginny laughed.

The gang laughed until Professor Flitwick approached them on the lawn.

"Students," The professor began, "I just wanted to warn you to not eat a large breakfast in the morning before class. We're going to be learning how to make Portkeys, and I don't want you to lose the contents of your stomach if something goes wrong."

"But Professor, I thought all we had to do was take a piece of junk and say the spell?" Ron questioned the tiny teacher, looking thoroughly confused.

"It doesn't always have to be a piece of junk, Mr. Weasley. Those are just the most convenient, in case a Muggle happens to stumble across one. Your friend Mr. Potter can attest that fact."

The three other teenagers looked at Harry, who simply nodded his head and mouthed the words "Triwizard Cup".

"A Portkey can be anything, really, like a medallion or a dolphin." Flitwick continued.

Ginny raised her hand, remembered that they weren't actually in a classroom and let her hand fall back down onto the grass. "Can a person be a Portkey, Professor?"

"Of course not, because if that person were to touch themselves-" Professor Flitwick broke off there and glanced at Ron, who turned a shade redder than his hair while Harry, Hermion and Ginny fell on the grass with laughter. "-Either way. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasely and Miss Granger, I suggest you heed my warning lest you, to use the common phrase, toss your cookies. Good day to you all."

Hermione was the only one still laughing as Flitwick toddled away. "I love Professor Flitwick. Truly, I do."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can we go down to the kitchens? I need a snack." said Ron, still looking rather pink around the ears.

"Of course you do, Ronald."

**Okay people, there's Chapter 6! If anyone caught on to what I referenced in this chapter, let me know. :)**

**Review please! They are the best things in the world to me, and I'm sick right now so they would make me feel so much better.**


	7. Famous Last Words

**I'm trying to be better about uploading both of my fics, because I have an unfortunate tendency of getting immersed in a fic and forgetting my own for days on end. So here I am, two days after updating my other fic, writing chapter 7 of BIF.**

Hermione was sitting in first-hour double Potions with Harry and Ron. Professor Snape had yet to enter the classroom, so everyone was milling about their respective tables. Hermione was eyeing the cauldrons, trying to find the one that didn't have a broken handle or chipped rim or a crack down the side or the worst one of all, the ancient cauldron whose bottom was far too thin. The thing was almost transparent, and potions could burn far too easily.

There it was, at the bottom of the stack closest to the ingredients storeroom. Hermione left her boys (regardless of the fact that both Harry and Ron were considerably larger than she, Hermione considered Harry and Ron her boys) and darted across the room to fetch the good cauldron before anyone else spotted it. As she levitated the cauldron from the bottom of the stack, a pale hand reached from above her head and grabbed the handle.

"Thanks for this, Granger. You just saved me from having to do all the sweaty work myself."

Hermione whirled around to see a very smug-looking Malfoy, hair restored to its unnatural sleekness.

"But Malfoy, sweaty work might do you some good! One day, one day soon, you might actually have to get this thing called a _job_. And what will you do without your obedient cronies to tend to your every whim?" Hermione quipped in a saccharine-sweet voice that totally belied the slightly offensive words she spoke.

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. "I know how to work and get sweaty, Granger."

It took quite a deal of Hermione's self-control to not blush. "Of course you do. Don't think I haven't heard the rumors. You might think that I'm a bookwormwho spends all of her time in the library, and that's rather true. But you would be absolutely flabbergasted to know what one finds out between the library shelves when certain people of the female variety don't know how to whisper."

"Oh? And what does one learn, Granger?" Malfoy said, quickly recovering from a very noticeable flush.

"One learns that you have a very...interesting...reputation with the young girls of Hogwarts. One learns that apparently there's this thing you do with your tongue against a certain fifth-years' frenulum that made her go weak at the knees, but she was terribly disappointed when you no longer wanted any contact with her. Is that because her brother threatened to pound your face in if you defiled his baby sister?" Hermione said. She reveled in the fact that Malfoy's redness seemed unable to fade.

While Malfoy was apparently rendered speechless, Hermione took advantage of her golden opportunity and wrenched the good cauldron from Malfoy's slack grip. Harry and Ronald were gaping at her when she got back with the cauldron.

"Mione, what in the name of Merlin's most saggy Y-fronts did you say to Malfoy?"

"Oh, nothing, Harry. I just know how to shut him up. How do you imagine that I've survived in our dorm with him for this long?"

Harry gave her a mysterious look, a look that she tried to label as inquisitive meeting proud with a touch of awe. It was the same look her mother had given her when she had seen Hermione's tamed hair; that look of "My baby is growing up".

They couldn't talk past that point. Snape had sauntered in his own batlike way into the dungeon, magically closing the doors and collecting their summer assignments into one neat pile on his desk.

"I hope this batch of essays are better than the tripe I had to endure last year. Bear in mind that no amount of worldwide fame or unfortunate idiocy will make me make this class any easier for you. If that is what you wish, then you might as well proceed straight to the headmaster's office because you should not be in a N.E.W.T.-level course." Snape drawled.

Hermione inwardly chuckled as both Ronald and Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"We're never going to pass this year!" Harry groaned.

000

Draco was trying to take notes on what Snape was saying on how to brew Veritaserum when he felt Blaise's elbow nudge his side.

"What?" Draco hissed through his teeth. If his notes weren't impeccable, Granger would once again be top of the class. Maybe if he devoted all of his time studying like she did, he would forget that her hair was the color of darkened honey and her eyes were deep and brown and she looked like her body would fit into his perfectly. Maybe he would forget that she was the only girl outside of his family to ever stand up to him and though he would never in his lifetime admit it, he kind of liked their witty banter.

Draco was brought out of his internal musings by another one of Blaise's elbows to his ribcage. "What, Blaise?"

"What was with that exchange you had with Granger by the cauldrons?" Blaise whispered. Even though Snape went far easier on the Slytherins than any other House, that didn't mean that they weren't above reproach. It just meant that Snape scolded them either after class or down in the Slytherin common room where the other students couldn't see.

"It was nothing. Granger was just being Granger."

"Then why did you give her the best cauldron?"

"I didn't. She took it."

"Why did you let her? It's not like you couldn't take her-" At Blaise's words, Draco's mind started creating images that Draco definitely did not need while sitting in Potions with multiple people around him. "-and it's not like Potter or Weasley deserve the best cauldron anyway."

"She just surprised me is all. The smarmy git knows way more than she lets on."

This piqued Blaise's interest. He abandoned his notes (he could always ask Draco for them later) and angled his body toward Draco so that he could hear his responses better without having their conversation overheard. The dungeons were notorious for being able to carry noise. It was how Snape always managed to keep a tight rein on his students without ever having to truly raise his voice; the cold stone walls provided a perfect acoustic setting. "What does she know that you didn't expect her to?"

"Remember the Hufflepuff girl last year?" Draco sighed. He knew from experience that whenever Blaise got interested, there was no way out but total admittance.

"The one with the overprotective prat of an older brother?"

"That's the one. Well apparently when I told her that I couldn't continue the...relationship...she took her little friends to the library and started gossiping about the whole situation."

"Okay, but what does that have to do with Granger?"

"She overheard."

Blaise laughed. "Should it really surprise you? Come on, D. It's always the quiet ones that you need to be scared about."

"Yeah, well that's how she got the cauldron. She mentioned it and I was sort of shocked at the fact that she knew and she took it from me in a brief, unrepeated moment of weakness. It won't happen again, I assure you."

"D. Be serious. Of course it will happen again. You and Granger will be sharing a dorm for the year. You can't win all the time, and I don't think you want to. She's not a fragile yet manipulative flower nor is she a clueless bint. I think you respect her in a weird way."

"Of course I respect her, B. She's the bloody smartest witch in our year, Granger deserves respect even for a muggleborn." Draco scoffed.

"You see? You didn't even call her a mudblood. We've only been back at school for a few days and already you've stopped being rude to her. Well, relatively rude. Draco, I honestly doubt that you can make it to Halloween without beginning to fancy her."

Draco snorted. "Have you gone daft, Zabini? There's no way I could ever fancy her."

"Look at the facts, D. Now that she hasn't got that tumbleweed she used to call her hair distracting from her other features, Granger's actually quite nice looking."

"So?" Draco refused to admit to Blaise that he found Granger attractive. Blaise would take that small inch and run a mile with it.

"So, it's going to be just you and her with all that alone time in that private dorm all year. Something's going to happen. I'm sure of it."

Before Draco could retaliate, Snape's voice floated across the dungeons. "Misters Malfoy and Zabini, I think the whole class would appreciate it if you would stop your unnecessary gossiping. I had not realized you were stooping to such low classroom activities."

Draco smirked and turned back to his notes. There was no way Blaise would risk another telling-to from Snape that class just to talk about Granger.

000

Hermione's day went swimmingly until lunchtime. Harry and Ron had agreed to meet her at the Great Hall, since she had to run to her dorm to drop off her books before lunch.

When she got down to the Great Hall, Ron and Harry still hadn't arrived so she took a seat next to Ginny. Hermione didn't notice anything amiss until Ginny sniffled, and it wasn't a normal "I'm coming down with a cold" sniffle.

It was a "I just spent an hour crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom" sniffle.

Hermione glanced next to her at her sniffling redhead friend. Ginny's eyes were lined red and puffy, affirming Hermione's guess. She didn't ask questions, she just grabbed Ginny by the shoulders and swept her into a hug.

Although it wasn't Hermione's intention, the hug sent Ginny into a fresh wave of tears. She didn't let go, though; Hermione had been around a crying Ginny before and knew that in times like these, no matter what the cause, she just wanted to be held. After a few minutes, Ginny's sobs subsided into gentle hiccups and she pulled out of Hermione's friendly embrace.

"Thanks, Mione. I needed that."

"It's not a problem. Do you want to talk about it? You don't have to if you aren't ready."

Ginny took a deep breath, steadying herself and ridding herself of the last remnants of her crying jag. "It's Harry. I know we weren't officially together, but he hasn't been seeming very interested lately and I tried to talk to him earlier. Make it official, you know? But he told me no!"

Hermione was shocked. She had been so sure that Harry fancied Ginny! It had sure seemed like it during their sixth year, and it took all Hermione had to keep Ginny from constantly raving about Harry when she came to visit Hermione over the summer.

"I'm so sorry, Gin. I know you liked him. I don't know what's going on inside his brain. He seemed alright this morning. But he and Ron are coming down to eat lunch soon, do you want to scarper before you have to see him?"

Ginny nodded. She rose from the table and walked over to the Ravenclaws, where Luna welcomed her with a hug and a piece of chicken. It was good that she left when she did; as soon as Ginny had seated herself between Luna and a sixth-year Ravenclaw that Hermione did not know, Ron and Harry entered the Great Hall.

Hermione busied herself with making a plate before Ron got to the table. Harry and Ron were chatting animatedly about something when they sat down in their usual position as of late; Ron sitting across the table from Harry and Hermione, who sat side-by-side.

"What are you boys talking about?" Hermione asked, ladling some cream of broccoli soup onto her spoon.

"How Snape reamed out Zabini and Malfoy today during Double Potions. Merlin, it was brilliant!" Ron chortled.

"I hardly think that could be called reaming out, Ronald. He didn't even look that annoyed, and Snape always looks annoyed. It was nothing more than a light scolding." Hermione pointed out.

"But still. He used disciplinary methods on Slytherins, Malfoy no less. It counts." Harry replied.

Hermione sighed, resigned. While she too harbored a dislike for most Slytherins, she couldn't just revel in Malfoy's scolding like Ron and Harry did anymore. After spending time with the aforementioned blonde, Hermione had to conclude that he wasn't a completely terrible person.

Cocky, yes. Egotistical, yes. Hilariously sensitive, yes. He also had the tendency to be a bit of a prat. But evil?

No. Malfoy may have been a lot of things, but he wasn't evil.

After they finished their meal (or several meals, if you accounted for Ron's stomach) Hermione invited Ron and Harry up to the Head dorm.

If muggle cameras would have worked at Hogwarts, Hermione would have snapped a shot of Harry and Ron's faces as they entered the Head common room. Their eyes were full of awe, absorbing the cool interior and leather couches and portrait-less walls.

"Nice, huh?" Hermione said, sinking comfortably into a leather armchair by the fire.

"Nice? Hermione, this place is golden! I have no idea why you would ever leave." Ron mused.

"Honestly, Ron. I can't just skive off my lessons!" Hermione chuckled.

"I would, if I were as smart as you. Is there really any point of you taking your seventh year? You probably could have passed the N.E.W.T.S. back in fourth year!" Harry joked.

"Harry!" Hermione said, laughing. She opened her mouth to further protest Harry's words but Harry plopped himself on her lap, effectively cutting off her train of thought. "Harry! Harry get off me this instant!"

Her words did not have as great of an impact as she wanted. It was kind of hard to sound fierce and unwavering when one was dying from laughter.

Malfoy, for once, saved the day. The sound of the portrait door opening and Malfoy's strut into the common rom caused the hysterical laughter to die on Ron and Harry's lips.

"Hello there, Malfoy. Are your classes done for the next few hours also?" Hermione said. She hoped that if she was polite, all three boys would follow her lead and not get into a brawl in an unsupervised room.

"Yes. You should know, seeing as how we're in all the same classes together. Speaking of which, Professor Vector is sick. Arithmancy is cancelled today." Malfoy said, completely ignoring Harry and Ron.

Well, it was a start. At least he wasn't insulting the Weasleys.

"Oh no! What happened, is she going to be okay?"

"Apparently some first-year left a candy from a Skiving Snackbox in the classroom, and Professor Vector mistook it for a regular candy. Needless to say, she's not doing the greatest. But Madam Pomfrey will have her cured in no time. She's fixed odder things."

"Well okay. Harry, Ron? Do you to mind leaving for a while? I want to get a shower, but I don't want to leave you here alone. That would be terribly rude." Hermione questioned. While she did in fact want a shower, she also had an ulterior motive. It was a miracle sent from Merlin himself that the boys hadn't damaged each other in the last few minutes, and Hermione didn't want to push her luck.

"Sure, Mione." The boys echoed and left to Gryffindor Tower.

As Hermione saw the portrait door behind Harry's shock of messy black hair, she remembered Ginny and her predicament at lunch. "Harry, wait!" She dashed out of the common room and managed to snag the back of Harry's robes before he got too far.

"Harry, what happened between you and Ginny today? She was upset at lunch and said that you told her you no longer wanted to be with her. You two were fine on the train. What went badly?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know, alright? I know I liked her but she was acting very possessive and it just weirded me out. I didn't mean for it to end up the way it did, but when I tried to ask her to calm down with the possessiveness she overreacted and started crying, saying that I was breaking up with her. It went from bad to worse in a matter of seconds."

Hermione had never seen Harry this confused over a girl before. She closed the short distance between them and wrapped her arms around his middle, enveloping him in a hug that she hoped conveyed to him that she would support him in anything he needed her to.

"Thanks, Mione. I needed that." Harry said, composing himself. Hermione had to try not to laugh as Harry echoed the exact same words in nearly the same tone that Ginny had done earlier at lunch.

"Don't mention it. Just know that I'm here for you whenever you need me, except right now. Right now, I need to go get a shower." Hermione laughed, giving Harry another quick hug and darting back into the Head dorm before Malfoy got it in his head to get a shower and run up all the hot water.

Mercifully, the shower was empty when she reached the bathroom. Hermione was glad, because she was too exhausted to have to resort to hexing Malfoy for being a grade-A prat.

000

Draco heard the shower start running at the same time that the portrait door announced that there was someone there to see him. Not more than a second later sauntered in a smug-looking Blaise, holding The List.

The List was something that they had started up in their third year, when they had first started to take a serious interest in the members of the opposite sex. The List was a compilation of every girl that was in third year or above and their rank of attractiveness.

"How on earth has someone finally manufactured The List this early on in the school year? It usually takes until Halloween at the earliest." Draco mused.

"Apparently a group of fifth-years decided to lighten our workload. They are quite efficient...who do you think are the top and bottom slots this year?" Blaise asked. If all went in his favor, he could get Draco to admit that he liked Granger.

"You know what, Blaise? Do you know who I think is the ugliest girl in school? Granger. You know what I'd give her on a scale of one to ten, with one as the ugliest and ten as the prettiest? I'd give her an 8... 8.5... or a 9... but not... NOT over a 9.8. Because there is always room for improvement. Not everyone is perfect, like me. I'm holding out for a 10. Because I'm worth it." Draco said. After his initial proclamation that he thought Granger to be the ugliest girl in school, Draco had just started rambling. It was like word vomit; the more he tried to hold it in, the more embarrassing things came out.

"Uh huh. And yet you say you don't fancy her? Mate, listen to yourself." Blaise quipped.

"Shut up, Blaise."

**There you go! You should review, let me know what you thought, because my friend got hit by a bus today. I'm not lying. It really happened. There's no possible way I could make something like that up. But anyway, I'm seriously worried about her and I won't be able to make it to the hospital to see her for a day or two, so if you reviewed it might make me feel better.**


	8. I Kissed A Girl

The first few weeks of school passed easily for Hermione. Her classes were relatively easy, although studying with Malfoy in the common room every night made comprehending all of her schoolwork significantly easier. Not for the first time that year, she found herself grateful for the fact that someone as intelligent as she was rooming with her that year.

While it was nice to have a study partner, her change of relationship with Malfoy was noticeable and odd in the fact that it wasn't odd at all, at least not to them. The rest of the school found it absurd to the point that Hermione would hear of bets in the hallways as to who would murder the other first, esconced in their dorm all year. Even Harry and Ron made jokes about it, although it had taken them a while to get used to the fact that Hermione and Malfoy didn't hate each other. Hermione supposed it had a lot to do with the fact that her two best friends chose to spend most of their free time in the Head common room rather that the Gryffindor common room, and smartly figured between the both of them that the year would be rather tedious if all they did was fight with Malfoy all year.

"Oi, 'Mione! Let us in to your cavern of wonders!" Hermione heard Ron yell from outside the portrait. Beside her on the couch in the common room was Malfoy, who had been helping her translate a few difficult runes for a project that Professor Vector had assigned to them. At Ron's words, Malfoy started laughing uncontrollably. Not seeing the joke, Hermione went to the door to let Ron and Harry in.

They crawled through the portrait hole, and Hermione saw that Harry was in a similar state as Malfoy. They were both doubled over in hysterics. Hermione was sure that there were tears coming from Malfoy's eyes. Even Ron was struggling to not pee himself from laughing so hard.

"What on earth is going on? What's so funny?" Hermione had said indignantly. She liked a joke as well as the next person, especially if it was a joke that had the boys rolling on the floor in laughter. She thought about the joke, about what Ronald had said about letting him and Harry into her cavern of wonders...

Suddenly, Hermione got it and started laughing. "Ronald! That has got to be one of the most inappropriate-" She couldn't even finish her sentence, she was laughing so hard.

After everyone regained their composure some moments later, Hermione crossed the common room to the kitchenette and started up a pot of tea.

Looking at Hermione across the room rummaging in the kitchen area, Ron got a wicked idea into his head.

"Harry, do you know how to cast a Disillusionment Charm?" Ron whispered to his best mate, who nodded. "Do it on me. I want to freak 'Mione out." In seconds, Ron had disappeared. Harry and Malfoy followed Ron's camoflauged form around the room, where he waited patiently behind Hermione as she prepared the tea.

Malfoy and Harry had to try very hard not to laugh as they saw the shimmering air that was Ron following Hermione to where they were sitting, tea tray in hand. Ron waited patiently for Hermione to set the tray down so as to not cause her to ruin her efforts making them all tea in the first place. Also, Ron belived that Hermione would take the whole practical joke a lot easier if she wasn't covered in tea.

After relieving herself of the tea, Hermione righted herself and suddenly found a pair of invisible hands round her waist. Before she knew what was happening, the pair of hands lifted her into the air. Not knowing where to hit to free herself, Hermione did the only thing she could do.

She screamed.

It worked. Ron, Harry and Malfoy all had to clap their hands over their ears to protect themselves for the shrillness of Hermione's shriek. In the process of saving his ears from further damage, Ron rather forcefully dropped Hermione. Dropped would not be the right word, though. He more threw Hermione across the room, straight onto the body of one Draco Malfoy.

Straight onto the body of one Draco Malfoy who was not expecting one hundred and fifteen pounds of girl on his person until it was nearly too late. At just the right moment, Malfoy extended his arms and caught Hermione, cradling her against his chest.

Hermione wound her arms instinctively around Malfoy's neck. She was wholeheartedly glad that while Ron was an idiot and should not have thrown her, it was a good thing that she had landed on Malfoy and that Malfoy was seated at the time. It made the impact of her fall a lot easier.

"Weasley, you bloody idiot! What did you have to go and throw Granger for? What would you have done if I hadn't caught her? Madam Pomfrey can't fix everything!" Hermione heard Malfoy yell from her position against him.

The room was silent for a moment while Ron formulated an answer, but he didn't get a chance.

"I think you and Potter should head back to Gryffindor Tower. Now, if you would." Malfoy said.

"Okay, I think that's fair. I'm sorry, 'Mione. Please don't be mad at me for too long." said Ron, properly abashed.

Hermione nodded, not wanting to meet Ron's eyes. Her forehead had found the warm crevice inbetween Malfoy's neck and shoulder, and it was quite a nice place to be. She could smell the soap Malfoy used mixed with his aftershave. It wasn't a half-bad smell. Much better than Ron, who always seemed to smell like sweat.

"I can't believe Ronald would do something like that. What on earth was he thinking, sneaking up on me like that? Did he not think that I would scream? He's lucky I didn't have my wand on me, he might have lost a testicle." Hermione uttered into the newly-discovered spot on Malfoy's neck. She didn't notice the gentle shudder the effect of her breath on Malfoy's neck had on him, but she did notice him shift uncomfortably when she mentioned removing several key pieces of Ron that made him of a different gender than she was. "He can be such an arse sometimes. I mean, there's absolutely no doubt that I love both Ron and Harry to death, but sometimes I just want to wrap my fingers around their necks and never let go."

Malfoy laughed.

"Oh Merlin, now I'm turning into you! You see, before this year, I never used to act like this." Hermione said.

"Oh yes you did. Do you not remember third year, when you slapped me across the face? I do believe that you displayed violent tendencies even then." Malfoy retorted.

"You were being a git. You deserved it."

"Deserved, as in past tense? As in, I won't get physically abused any more?"

"I didn't say that, Malfoy. You lot need a firm hand to keep you in line every now and then." Hermione proved her point by smacking Malfoy lightly on the chest.

"Oh come on, Granger. That was weak."

"I don't think you want to tempt me. Have you realized where I'm sitting? I could make you very uncomfortable in a very short period of time." Hermione said, smirking when she felt Malfoy swallow nervously.

"I have no idea what you're on about. It's not like I've never had a girl in my lap before." Malfoy's voice cracked a bit, ruining his words.

"Oh, really? Is that so? Well then this-" Hermione shifted in Malfoy's lap so that her legs were on either side of his waist and she was looking at him head on. Malfoy was suddenly aware of just how close their southern hemispheres were and the fact that her face was tantalizingly near to his. He could smell the strawberry stuff she frequently put on her lips to prevent from chapping and wondered if they would be as soft as they looked. "-will be no problem for you at all, I daresay."

"It's not. In fact, I'm not even bothered." Again with the voice cracking. Hermione would have laughed at the fact that he was so bothered by her physically, but that would mean that she would internally have to admit that she was flustered as well. Malfoy's eyes were wonderfully pale, a mix of blue and silver that looked like the sky on an overcast day. He had regrettably shifted his hair from the admittedly adorable mop of curls back into it's unnatural straightness, but it still looked like spun silk and Hermione was willing to bet all the books in the library that it would be amazingly soft to the touch. She so wanted to touch it, so she did.

Hermione brought her fingers behind Malfoy's head to the nape of his neck, where she proceeded to run her fingers through the blond strands there. This time, she did not miss the shudder that ran through Malfoy's body when she touched him. But Merlin, his hair was soft! It reminded her of a stuffed toy that her parents had bought her from a department store when she was a child; the bear had fur that was incredibly soft to the touch. Hermione continued to rake her fingers through Malfoy's hair, changing pressure at random intervals and occasionally gently scraping her fingernails against his scalp. She did not miss that his eyes changed from a very pale silver-blue to the dark of the ocean after a storm, but she did not get to observe it for long before Malfoy's eyes fluttered shut and he groaned quietly.

"Is everything okay? I should probably stop," Hermione said, but making no motions to change her position.

"No, you shouldn't. You should stay right where you are." said Malfoy. One of his hands found its way to the small bit of skin exposed between her school skirt and shirt, and the other worked behind her head and intertwined itself in her curls.

Hermione had more than a moment's comprehension where she knew what was going to happen, and she recognized the out that Malfoy was giving her. But she wanted this just as much as he, and she would be damned if chivalry was going to get in the way.

What Hermione wanted, Hermione got.

"Malfoy," Hermione breathed.

That was it, the magical key that unlocked a world full of possibilities. Malfoy used the hand tangled in her hair to bring her mouth to his, closing the short distance in less than a second. His other hand, the one touching her waist, wrapped around her lower back and pulled her chest flush against his.

The world could have erupted into war, Hogwarts could have fallen to the ground, the library could have burned all of it's books and still the pair would not have noticed. The first touching of lips was gentle, uncertain, but then a dam of unrelieved sexual tension between Malfoy and herself broke and Hermione pressed her lips against his with more pressure and the kiss escalated with the force of a freight train.

Malfoy found himself terrifyingly breathless. Her lips were just as soft as they looked, but with enough pressure behind them that it was perfect. The locks of brown curls fell around his face, enveloping him in the scent of whatever shampoo she used that he was sure would soon pop up in the next batch of Felix Felicis that he was around.

Before too long, like a drug, they both wanted more. Hermione felt the warm probe that was Draco's tongue against her lips and immediately let him in. He tasted like mint tea and ginger biscuits, and his tongue was dueling against hers in a way that had her stomach on fire. Several minutes passed and neither relented. Malfoy's hands pushed up the back of Hermione's white oxford shirt and rested on the bare skin there, not pushing too far. No longer satisfied with merely her mouth, Malfoy dragged his lips down her jawline and on her neck, where he found a spot right under Hermione's ear that caused her to whimper and grind her hips instinctively against his. He smirked, pleased with himself.

"Granger, we have to stop." Malfoy's smirk doubled in power when Hermione reluntantly retreated and looked at him through half-dazed eyes, looking every bit like she was just in the middle of being thorougly shagged.

"That's fine, I guess. We do have to go down for dinner soon and you do need to take care of your, er, little friend down there." Hermione said, regaining her composure and pointedly eyeing his zipper area, which in the past dozen minutes or so had gotten rather tight. Malfoy's smirk disappeared and transferred itself onto Hermione's face.

She leaned in close to his ear. "Besides, we have all the time in the world to carry on later, right?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her, and Hermione laughed.

"Who are you and what have you done with Granger?"

**For anyone who has not recognized my many references thus far, there is this marvelous thing on the internet called A Very Potter Musical. Seriously, for any Potter fans, it's the most wonderful thing ever. It's very funny, and I have fallen in love with it and have consequently gotten several of my friends into it. For those of you thinking "Hey, this sounds cool, I may want to view this!", here's what you do: Go to Google. Type "Team Starkid" into the search engine. Click on what should be the first link, the link to the official Team Starkid website. When you get to the website, at the top of the page you should see a row of white words at the top. Click on "SHOWS". Click on "AVPM". For you Gleeks out there, YES. That is Darren Criss playing Harry Potter. This was created by he and his fellow University of Michigan theater department students before he ever got on Glee. He wrote the songs for both this musical and its' sequel, A Very Potter Sequel. You should probably watch that too, after you watch the first one. By the way, both the musical and the sequel are broken up into parts because the whole thing was filmed for youtube and unfortunately had to be put into segments. I also advise you wear headphones because if not, you will not be able to hear the amazingness under all the audience laughter and applause. I also want to add that the WHOLE IDEA OF THE PLAY was based off the possibility that Draco might have had feelings for Hermione. Oh yes. So please go watch it. Please? It really is wonderful. **

**Also, review? You can also let me know what you thought of A Very Potter Musical/Sequel, should you wish to go watch it.**


	9. Play With Fire

Hermione was confused when she arrived at her, Harry and Ron's usual spot at the Gryffindor table at the Great Hall only to find that her two boys weren't there.

"Down here, Mione!" Harry called to her from down the table. Hermione could suddenly see why they weren't amidst the throng of fellow Gryffindors in their normal place; Harry and Ron were accompanied by Blaise and Pansy.

Hermione smiled, walking down the aisle and sitting on Blaise's right side. "What brings you snakes to the lion's den tonight?"

"Oh, you know. We were in the neighborhood and thought we'd pop over and say hello. Plus it's awfully funny too see the flustered looks on those poor Gryffindors' faces to see us in your territory." Blaise said, grabbing a chicken breast and placing it on his plate.

"Well, you're welcome here as long as you survive all the hexes." Hermione joked. Gryffindor bravery aside, nobody at their table would dare hex anyone who was in good standing with Harry. Not with the war so close on the horizon and Harry being their one chance for survival.

"Blaise, look!" Pansy spoke, pointing across the Hall. Malfoy had just entered the Hall and proceeded like normal to the Slytherin table, but halted in his tracks at the lack of his friends there at their usual spot.

"D! Over here, mate!" Blaise said through a mouthful of chicken.

Malfoy squeezed himself in the small open seat between Hermione and the end of the table.

"Merlin! Have you ever heard of personal space, Malfoy! I need my bubble."

Malfoy laughed: a deep, throaty laugh that Hermione could feel vibrating through her bones. It felt nice to know that she could affect him in a non-romantic setting.

At her thoughts, images of what her and Malfoy had done flashed through her head. Hermione didn't even have to see her own face to know that a blush had begun to seep into her cheekbones. She had never been that forward with any boy, ever. It felt right. With anybody else, she would have been too shy. There was just something about Malfoy that made her want to abandon her inhibitions. Just something that made her want to make people remember that there was more to her than a big brain and a never-ending stream of facts and good marks.

"You know you like it, Granger. Can you pass me the cottage pie before Weasel devours it all?" Malfoy said. There was an air of truth to his words; Ron had already taken quite a large portion of the cottage pie for himself. Hermione willingly handed him the platter.

The conversation stilted for a moment until Pansy brought up a bit of information from that morning's History of Magic lesson, needing clarification from Hermione on the details. Hermione delved into a lecture on the goblin skirmishes of 1812 while maintaining interest from the group, a first for her.

OOO

Draco couldn't help but stare at Granger's words as she taught Pansy about the goblin wars. He still couldn't believe the audacity that she'd had earlier in kissing him. It was wonderful, glorious, and with one taste he knew he wanted more.

He would always want more.

Not for the first time in his existence, Draco wondered why Granger had managed to stay single for her duration at Hogwarts. She wasn't totally inexperienced; their voyage in the Head common room had proven that. He had it on good authority that she had never kissed Potter or Weasel, and they had been in fourth year when she had the short-lived relationship with Viktor Krum. Nobody could keep track of what she had done during the summer, Easter and Christmas holidays, but it was quite obvious that she had gotten some decent practice time in somewhere.

Draco didn't like it one bit. Granger was entirely too good of a kisser for her own good. If they had been standing, she would have brought him to his knees. The concept actually irritated Draco, because he considered himself an outstanding kisser and it was a point of Malfoy pride that they never lose the upper hand whilst wooing a lady. But Granger, Granger was different. She was everything that he'd been raised and brainwashed to hate and yet Draco couldn't help himself. While he had been conditioned from birth to detest Hermione Granger and everything he was, his parents also taught him to go after what he wanted and to make sure he got it. It was the Malfoy way. He was sure that his parents would disown him if they knew of what was occurring between him and Granger, but he didn't care one iota at that moment. All that mattered in those upcoming moments (and the very important one that had already passed) was that he wanted Granger and nobody-lest of all his family-was going to stand inthe way of that.

In all of his inner musings, Draco hadn't noticed the populace of the Great Hall dwindle down to next to nothing. It had gotten to a point that he, Blaise, Pansy, Granger, Potter and Weasel were the lone habitants of the Hall, save for Professors Trelawney and Sprout. They all took final bites of their respective dinners (Draco quickly downed his nearly abandoned cottage pie) and said their goodbyes. Blaise and Pansy made a left at the Hall entrance, descending the staircase that eventually led to the dungeons. Potter and Weasel went straight ahead towards the main staircases, making their way toward the Gryffindor Tower. Draco and Granger took a sharp left, ascending a rotating staircase that gave them a shortcut to the Head dorms.

Draco was mildly disappointed when Granger immediately quitted the common room in favor of her own private dormitory. She had promised a reenactment of earlier that evening, had she not? But it had been a long day, and Draco understood. He was exhausted as well. Repeatedly kissing a beautiful girl after a day of classes was exhausting.

He made his way to his own room, removing his day clothes and putting on simply a pair of black silk boxers. Draco had always found it rather difficult to sleep with many clothes on. They were a nuisance and would always get wrinkled or bunched up on his person. Normally Draco would wear a pair of pajama bottoms to bed as he had had roommates in the previous years, but he was alone now. He could and would wear as he wished.

OOO

Across the hall, Hermione was in a similar predicament. She knew Malfoy must have wanted to continue their earlier activities, but Hermione was just so tired. The day had been long enough without the heated snogging session with Malfoy and the miniature teaching session during dinner. By the time they had climbed all of those stairs on their way back to the Head dorm, Hermione was beat. She simply went to her room, hoping for a good nights' rest.

Hermione divested herself of her school clothes, instead choosing to slither on a comfortable teal tank top and matching shorts. Wearing pants to bed irritated her, as the fabric would slide itself up her legs during her slumber and would leave red marks on her skin when she woke. She also removed her bra, having read in a muggle health magazine over the summer that spending too much time with the tight underwire could possibly lead to breast cancer later in life. Overall, the choice for night clothes was very soothing and quite comfortable.

Just as Hermione gave Crookshanks a good-night petting and snuggled under her sheets, a loud rumble of thunder was heard. After that, a crack of lightning that made Hermione cringe and illuminated the room with brief light.

Oh, no.

Hermione hated storms, hated them since she was a little girl. Once her parents had taken her to a summer fair and allowed her to get on the rides meant for older children. There was this one orange contraption that spun you while you were tied in the cage while also spinning you in a circle. The effect was very thrilling, and Hermione rode the ride six times before the skies (previously calm, though overcast) opened up and unleashed a torrent of raindrops on the heads of the unsuspecting carnivalers. She was in the middle of her seventh turn on the wonderful orange ride when she became doused with water. It didn't bother her at first; it was England, it rained often. Plus, it was only rain and all rain was was water. What harm would some rainwater do? But a few seconds into the rain, a loud bolt of lighting stuck just down the road from the carnival. It terrified Hermione. Wat if it got any closer? The ride was only half over, and there she was: trapped on a giant, hulking metal thing. The passengers of the ride screamed for the man to stop the ride, but he only smiled his creepy, motorcycle-gang smile at them and let the ride continue on its path. By the time the scary man finally let them off the orange deathtrap, Hermione was ready to vomit. Ever since that day, lightning and thunder horrified her.

On storm days in Hogwarts of years past, Hermione would seek out Ginny and they would bunk together until the storm had passed. But now Hermione was Head Girl, and Ginny was floors away in Gryffindor Tower. The probablilty of Hermione leaving the safety of her room and venturing out into the halls during this violent of a storm was absolutely zero.

It only left Hermione one choice. She climbed out of her bed, padding across the hall in her sock feet, Crookshanks at her heels. Her knuckles rapped the door to Draco's dorm four times, hoping that he wasn't sleeping. Hermione would feel terrible if she woke him up over her and her silly fears.

"Yes?"

"Malfoy, it's me. Could you please open up?" The obvious hope in Malfoy's voice for another tryst almost made Hermione smile. Almost. But thunder was reverbrating through the hallway, and Hermione shuddered with anxiety.

The heavy oak door to Malfoy's private dorm opened, and all thoughts of the impending storm flew from Hermione's brain. Malfoy was standing in the doorway in nothing but a pair of black silk boxer shorts that contrasted the alabaster skin of his chest, arms and face. Hermione didn't even allow herself to let her eyes wander beneath the waistband of Malfoy's boxers. After their snogging earlier in the afternoon, Hermione didn't exactly trust herself.

"So I'm dreaming? Because there's no way that Granger would appear at my door wearing nothing but a pair of criminally tiny shorts and a shirt with no bra. It just doesn't happen." Malfoy smirked, eyes raking over Hermione's body. The smirk faded, however, when he noticed Hermione's terrified expression and shaking body. "Oi, what's wrong with you? Come here." Malfoy pulled Hermione's trembling form into a bear hug, holding her close and trying his very hardest to ignore the fact that they were both quite nearly naked. She was clearly in no mood for any romantic liasions.

"It's just...I hate storms. They scare me."

"Granger, scared? I didn't think that was possible."

"You prat." Hermione said. But she laughed and Malfoy knew that her insult was depthless.

"As fun as standing up sockless on a cold stone floor is, can we move this to a more comfortable, heated place? I'm honestly not meaning anything by it. I'm just cold, and I'm sure you are too."

Hermione shrugged from the cage of Malfoy's arms. Between the layers of sinewy muscle, she could honestly say she wasn't cold at all. But she followed Malfoy to the large bed in the center of the bed anyway, burrowing deep under the Slytherin silver and emerald green striped sheets. As much as she loved her Gryffindor scarlet and gold, she had to admit that the colors of the Slytherin House flattered her skin and eyes much better.

Malfoy seemed to think so too. As soon as Hermione was covered by the luxurious sheets, he pulled her into another hug. This was different than the one earlier. His previous hug was more comforting, like the ferocious hugs her father gave her as a young girl whenever she did something exceptionally well.

But the hug Malfoy was giving her now was of another nature entirely. His hands rested low on her hips, on the large strip of skin that had been revealed when she climbed into the bed. His eyes bored into hers, a swirling mix of silver and blue that made her want to whip out the colored pencils she had in her desk and try for hours to try to create that exact color in his eyes. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that she could try for hours and still not get it right.

"Do you want to talk about it? Why you are so scared of a little thunder and lightning?"

"No, it would take too long and it's not that bad. It just affected me as a child and I've been terrified of thunder and lightning ever since. I play board games with my parents when anything like this happens at home. In the years past, Ginny would occupy me when it stormed here. But now there's nobody in the dorm with me, and Crookshanks isn't much help in times like these. I love him to bits, the little mongrel, but he's got too much kneazle in him for his own good." Hermione explained. She wriggled closer to Malfoy, placing her chin on the crevice between his shoulder and neck.

"Granger, can I tell you something?"

"Yes." Hermione responded, her voice muffled by the strands of Malfoy's platinum hair and her mouth close to the skin on his neck. The effect of her breath heating a patch of skin on her neck and her lips on his skin caused him to go from perfectly calm to almost painfully THERE in less than six seconds.

"You're a girl. I'm a bloke. We're on my bed, neither of us have many clothes on, and you aren't exactly hard on the eyes."

"Mmhmm. I'd noticed that. You aren't the ugliest person in the world either. In fact-" Hermione tilted her head back and pressed her lips to Malfoy's. If she couldn't play board games with her parents or talk mindlessly with Ginny, Hermione supposed that snogging Malfoy would be a suitable pasttime while they waited for that infernal storm to pass.

With all the speed of the snakes of whom he represented on a daily basis at Hogwarts, Malfoy took Hermione's knee in his large hand and hitched is around his waist while he hungrily assaulted her mouth with his. Hermione brought her hands up to toy with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Malfoy groaned into Hermione's mouth and rolling them over until Hermione's nearly bare back touched the sheets and Malfoy hovered over her.

"Malfoy..." Hermione moaned breathlessly as Malfoy's lips detached themselves from hers and descended to her neck. He found the sweet spot right underneath her jaw, smirking against her skin when she tightened her grip in his hair and ground her hips against his.

"Merlin, Granger. You want to kill me, don't you?"

"Maybe just a little. But it's so fun!" Hermione murmured. With Malfoy's ministrations, she was slowly losing the ability to form coherent thoughts.

Malfoy opened his mouth to make some smug retort, but it was lost as Hermione yanked his mouth away from her neck and to her lips. She assaulted his face with kisses, tasting the gravy from the cottage pie along with some organic taste on the inside of Malfoy's mouth that was simply pure Malfoy.

It was delicious.

OOO

Draco couldn't believe his luck.

Granger had come to him in her time of need, which made his chest constrict in a somewhat pleasant way that Draco wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with. He had only started getting close with Granger a few weeks ago, and already he was getting all mushy when she came to him when she was having problems.

But this, this was different. She had showed up at his door during a storm wearing clothes that Draco was positive female clothing designers created just to drive men wild. Granger's hair had slowly started to resist whatever Muggle products she had used to tame her hair in the beginning of the year and had achieved just the sort of wildness that gave her the look of just having risen from bed. The blue-green shade of her shorts and shirt complemented the remaining tan of her skin and the chocolate-y, cinammon-y color of her eyes. After noticing all of this, Draco noted that Granger had apparently forgotten to put on a bra before coming to his door.

If Voldemort had decided to kill him at that moment, he wouldn't care. The mental image of Granger, looking as if she had just been freshly shagged, was permanently ingrained into his brain.

Then the brave girl had the audacity to do what she had, to wriggle her nearly naked body so close to his. She had pressed her lips to his neck. Draco had been utterly shocked when she did so. He had never told anybody about that. He had never needed to. Most girls that he snogged never strayed from his lips or cheek. But Granger, Granger somehow knew that kissing his neck and shoulders was the exact key, the exact thing that made him go from zero to sixty in three point five.

He grabbed Granger's leg and slung it around his waist, pulling a Chinese fire drill and flipping them over so he was on top. As hot as it had been earlier when Granger had sat on his lap, Draco knew that with what she was wearing and what they were doing it would be impossible for him to keep control of his southern hemisphere if Granger had the lead.

The way Granger said his name, all breathless and moaning, made him forget that her blood wasn't as pure as his or that she continually beat him in every class or that his parents would kill him if they knew exactly who he was hovering over at that moment.

They exchanged a moment of witty, lust-induced banter before Granger forced his head from kissing her neck (he was proud to see that he had left a sizeable bruise there)and returned her lips to his, snogging him with such a ferocity that made him wonder what she would be like if they ever prgressed to the stage of actually shagging one another.

Granger's tongue dueled Draco's for dominance. If she didn't constantly score better marks than he, he might have let her win. If it had been any other situations, he definitely would not have let her win.

But Granger had come to him when she was scared because of the storm, and that meant a lot to Draco. He didn't want to take advantagee of her vulnerability. If he and Granger were going to get any further than they were, he wanted to earn it. He wanted to fight for what he got. Half of the fun in everything was in the chase, and he didn't want it to come too easy. The chase would be gone, and while Draco had no doubt that Granger would be wonderful with or without the added factor of anticipation, he didn't want it to be because of the storm. It would be a huge hit to his pride if this was the only reason they got this far.

"Granger-" Draco's voice cracked. In his internal musings, Hermione had moved her mouth from his face to the shell of his ear. Oh, Merlin. If he didn't stop her now, there would be no turning back. He was already barely holding on to his self-control as it was, and she was pushing it even further to the breaking point. "Granger, stop. If you don't want your first time to be in the middle of a storm because you cane to me because you got scared..."

Granger pulled back and looked him square in the eyes. She had a smirk on her face worthy of even the snobbiest Malfoy. "Who says it would be my first time? Silly Malfoy."

There it was, the tenuous grasp of his self-control. Merlin, the girl was going to murder him.

"Still. It's late, the storm is still going on, and I think we should wait until we're both in the right enough minds to make a decision on whether this is what should happen or not."

"Fair enough, but I'm not leaving. Sending me back to my room would just be cruel at this point. We may not sleep together just yet, but I'm sure that we can make it through the night just sleeping. Is that okay with you?"

"Do you really think I could deny a beautiful, nearly-naked girl her request to spend the night with me? Yes, Granger. It's completely fine by me."

Granger smiled at him, and again he had to push down the urge to want to rip both of their clothes off and take her right there. It wasn't what she needed right now, no matter how plainly obvious she made it that she wanted it. With an air of finality, Draco laid down next to Granger and pulled her close, letting his mind wander off to dreams filled with chocolate eyes and breathless whispers.

**I'm so sorry for the wait. I tried to make this extra long to make up for it. Am I forgiven?**


	10. Thinking About Tomorrow

Hermione woke up comfortable and warm.

Very warm.

Warmer than she usually was upon waking, even swaddled in blankets and with a sleeping Crookshanks on top of her. She cracked one of her eyelids to see a swath of platinum blonde hair in front of her face. Analyzing the situation as stealthily as she possibly could, Hermione deduced that she was draped across Malfoy in a decidedly intimate way. Her face was burrowed in the crevice between his neck and shoulder, her torso laying across his chest, and her legs intertwined with his.

Hermione briefly considered moving. After the small moment of personal absurdity, she realized that moving would not only wake Malfoy up, but it would also expose the both of them to the inevitable cold of Malfoy's bedroom. She turned her head slightly to look out the window only to relievedly note that it could not be later than dawn.

She had never been happier to close her eyes and nod back off to sleep.

000

Draco woke up slowly, reveling in the feeling of Granger's body over his. The light streaming into his window alerted him to the fact that it was at least nine in the morning.

Bloody hell, they would have classes soon.

It bothered Draco that he didn't want to get out of bed and leave the confines of Granger's arms. He wasn't supposed to feel like this, not at all. Not only was she a Muggleborn, but this was Granger. There was no doubt in Draco's mind that this-being here with Granger like this, tangled up in his bed-was what he wanted.

But his parents, as much as they loved him, might never accept Granger. They loved Draco; he was always given the best things possible growing up, always loved and cherished and spoiled while also being taught the ways of the world. He had been told from a young age that Mudbloods and Muggles weren't worth the ground they walked on, a point that had been reiterated by Lucius and Narcissa when Granger had continually upstaged everyone including himself at every exam.

Draco thought long and hard while Granger slept on about whether or not he should allow this budding relationship to go public or not. Unless they were extremely careful, it would hit the infamous Hogwarts rumor mill regardless. If he approached the subject carefully enough with his parents, giving them plentiful time to associate themselves with the idea, they might warm up to the idea that Draco and Granger were involved. The real problem, however, would be his other relatives, Aunt Bella in particular. She despised Muggleborns and Muggles. The idea of her accepting Granger as a part of Draco's life was simply absurd. Oh yes, the topic of Granger when it came to his family would require extreme caution. Not to mention the tension in the Wizarding world amongst everyone.

The war was approaching, of that Draco was sure. The last time he checked, his parents were slowly leaning towards Voldemort's side. Not two months ago, Draco would have jumped at the chance to join the Death Eater ranks and be granted that highest honor.

He looked down at the girl currently laying on him; snoring softly, wild brown hair curling all over the place, criminally long lashes dusting the tops of her cheeks and hiding the eyes that Draco so loved to see. It was impossible for Draco to remember his reasons for wanting to join Voldemort's minions. All he knew was that when the time came to choose, he would be choosing the side that allowed him to keep Granger safe. Mushy and unacceptable as it sounded, he didn't want to live in a world where she could have unspeakable things happen to her and there be nothing he could do to stop it. If she was going to be out there playing the hero with Potter and Weasley (as she undoubtedly would be, because she was Granger and she never knew how to just sit back and keep herself safe. How many times had she proven this over the years? How many deadly adventures had she inadvertently gotten herself into?), he was going to be right there beside her, making sure she didn't put herself too far in harm's path.

Draco waited several more minutes until deciding to wake Granger from her restful slumber. So sue him; the girl felt nice pressed against him the way she was. He was just like any other teenage male, albeit an exceptionally handsome one. Had it not been for the fact that they had classes that day, he would have waited until she arose on her own. But they did have classes, and he knew that he might lose vital body parts if he allowed Granger to sleep in and miss her lessons.

"Granger. Granger, wake up." Draco said clearly, gently shaking the sleeping girl until her eyes fluttered open.

"Wha-huh? Malfoy?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Wake up. Classes start soon and I know you hate it when you can't get a proper meal in before your day begins." Draco couldn't help but chuckle as Granger bounded out of his room and into her own, grabbing a change of clothes and then dominating the bathroom.

Granger would be Granger.

000

Hermione found herself conflicted multiple times that day. Ever since the friendly union between Malfoy, Blaise, Pansy, Harry, Ron and herself, they had taken to grouping up in their classes. It wasn't a stupid move; now that Hermione, Blaise, Malfoy and Pansy had teamed up, Hermione didn't have to spend all of her time doing Harry and Ron's coursework. They all spent equal time keeping Ron and Harry up to speed in class, which in turn meant that the two boys were able to comprehend their work on their own more frequently. But that day, the fact that they had merged into one gian supergroup was a huge inconvenience.

She found herself simutaneously unable to wrench her eyes from Malfoy and never wanting to see him at all.

On one hand, her mind kept flashing to last night. The snogging session was nearly unbearably hot, and Hermione had nearly slept with him right then. She mentally laughed every time she saw his shocked face when she insinuated that she'd had sex before. Of course she was a virgin, but it was just fun to push Malfoy's buttons.

On the other hand, her mind kept flashing to last night. Hermione couldn't believe some of the things she had said or done. Not one part of her regretted going to Malfoy in a storm. Left alone, she never would have gotten any sleep and probably would have driven herself to the point of a panic attack. However, she had slightly regretted the decision to stay in the clothes she had initially put on to sleep in. Hermione was one of those people who like to sleep in as little as possible. Clothes were infuriating and often got in the way of comfortable slumber. It had not occured to Hermione at the time to forewarn Malfoy that she essentially turned into a koala when she slept; it had been a point of humor for the Weasleys when they would enter Ginny's room in the morning to wake the two of them for breakfast only to find Hermione wrapped around a pillow (or an unsuspecting Ginny) much like a koala would cling to a tree.

Adding to her sense of confusion and confliction was the uncertainty on where she and Malfoy stood. She wanted to go further with him, maybe even officially date him now that their foolish childhood rivalry was (mostly) over. Hermione astutely guessed that the major obstacle in the way of a budding relationship between her and Malfoy was his parents, something that she could in no way help. It wasn't her fault that she was born to Muggles. You can't help who your relatives are.

_Oh well, _Hermione thought, resigned. _If all else fails, we'll have had that amazing snog during the storm._

000

"Hermione, you've gotten a letter." Hermione was roused to the present several hours later during the lunch break by Harry waving a roll of parchment in front of her eyes.

"Oh thanks, Harry." She knew exactly who it was from. Ever since the summer when she had run in on them in Diagon Alley over the summer, she had been in regular correspondence with Fred and George as a sort of consultant on bits of magic.

_To our dearest, kindest, most marvelous Hermione,_

_George-who is so devotedly reading and dictating over my shoulder, being an annoying git while he's at it-and I had an idea for a sweet that would allow one to temporarily change factors of their appearance. Sort of like a mini-Polyjuice potion, but not quite so because that would give the Death Munchers and other potential evil folks too much of an ability to avoid detection. Plus, to do that we would actually have to incorporate some Polyjuice Potion and that wouldn't sell at all. This would be minor, like the color of one's hair or their height. Nothing too drastic. Any ideas? You've all those books in that library at your disposal; care to do a bit of research?_

_Also, how are Ickle Ronniekins and The-Boy-Who-Just-Doesn't-Die? And Ginny? Give them our best, and tell Ron that if he's reading this along with you that we know he snatched a few Skiving Snackboxes from the back room before the start of term and if he doesn't return them soon, he'll get a rather uncomfortable burning sensation in his lower parts. _

_Your devoted (and also very handsome) servants,_

_Fred and George_

_P.S. We're serious about the Skiving Snackboxes. Tell him that._

Hermione was close to tears by the time that she finished the letter. Even if they didn't know they were doing it, the twins always managed to bring her out of a mood. She made a note to visit the library later and look up the magic needed to create the sweets that the boys wanted. She missed the twins. They weren't unintelligent; it was actually the exact opposite. They just despised school and the limitations it offered.

"You okay, Mione? What was it Fred and George wanted?" Ron said through a mouthful of cottage pie.

"They want the Snackboxes that you nicked, Ronald. How many times do I have to tell you to stop stealing things from Fred and George? They work hard to invent those products for their money and you just take them! One day, you're going to go too far and I will laughat you when they hex off a vital organ. One needed for reproduction." Hermione smirked as Ron paled. For the first time in living history, Ron pushed away a plate of delicious food.

An hour later, a smiling Professor Dumbledore stopped Hermione in the hallway on her way to Potions.

"Good day, Miss Granger."

"Good day to you as well, Headmaster. What can I do for you?"

"Alas, the question that should first and foremost spring to your mind is what I can do for you. Would you accompany to my office? I have already alerted Professor Snape that you will be missing his class. He wishes for me to tell you to meet his before the end of the day to retrieve the assignment you will miss."

"Yes, Headmaster."

Hermione followed Dumbledore to his ornate office. He proceeded to inform her of an Order plot that entailed collecting those that were on the fence about supporting Voldemort and giving them a safe place to stay, free from Voldemort's undeniable wrath. Sometimes being the brightest witch of her age had its advantages. Not even Harry was aware of this newest plan.

About an hour later she was dismissed by Dumbledore. She had sufficiently missed the rest of her lessons for the day. There was still ages until dinner, so she braced herself for the journey to Professor Snape's dungeon.

"Enter," Professor Snape said as Hermione rapped on his door a few minute later.

"Professor? Headmaster Dumbledore told me to come back down here and retrieve the work I missed during today's lesson."

"Very well, Miss Granger. We were merely studying the Coriolanus potion and it's effects on the human brain. Two feet of parchment are required by tomorrow's class. I assume that you can handle that?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good. That will be all." Hermione could clearly see when Professor Snape was dismissing her. He was right; she had read ahead in their textbooks and was already well informed on the Coriolanus potion. The essay would be no problem for her. If she worked hard enough-and did not let Malfoy or the temptations that she associated with him distract her-she could do it tonight. None of their other professors had assigned them any lengthy homework.

Hermione walked through the corridors of Hogwarts to the library to do the research for Fred and George, thoughts of the twins and the Order and Malfoy and Voldemort and his minions swarming her brain like flies, all battling for attention.

Sometimes it sucked being the brightest witch of their age.

**Sorry for the delay, everyone. High school is rough, but thankfully I only have 6 weeks left before I'm done with it forever. Plus, I had an unbelievably bad day today. It got to the point where I was just flat-out crying in school.**

**I'm on Tumblr, in case anybody cared or wanted to follow my blog (on which I post a lot of Starkid/Harry Potter/Dramione stuff). If you do, it's amyclough dot tumblr dot com. (Because fanfiction doesn't like to let me put the actual link).**

**Review, please? Let me know if you loved it or hated it, or in what direction you want it to go from here.**


	11. I Won't Give Up

**I'm not even going to lie, people. I lost inspiration a little bit. The Hunger Games movie came out and I already loved the series (actually loved it from the beginning, not hopping on it just because of the movie like these bandwagon fans) so I saw it three times in theaters, which lead to me reading so many Peeta/Katniss (Peeniss...teeheehee) fics that I couldn't distinguish between them anymore. Plus this has been my senior year spring break and I've been insanely busy and preparing for my senior prom in two weeks...sorry sorry sorry and I know that last chapter sucked, too. I'll try to make it up to you.**

Halloween was rapidly approaching at Hogwarts. The indian summer days that had so frequented the grounds were slowly giving way to cooler temperatures and changing foliage. Autumn in Scotland was absolutely breathtaking, and Hermione waas making sure to absorb as much of it as she could. She had already lost the tan that lounging around a pool all summer had given her, but due to her excessive hours doing her homework on the quidditch pitch while watching her boys practice was keeping her from looking lily white.

The scene was rapidly becoming a common occurence: Hermione and Pansy in the stands, surrounded by textbooks and parchment and quills, attending to their coursework while Ron, Harry, Draco and Blaise took to the sky and did what they did best. The boys often tried to persuade Pansy and Hermione to join them, but they almost always refused. Although Hermione had gained aptitude on a broomstick with all those skilled fliers near her all the time, forcing her up in the air, it still wasn't her favorite place to be and she was still rubbish at the sport of Quidditch itself. She just wasn't a sport person. Plus, remaining in the stands with Pansy gave her some time for some much needed girl talk. Hermione loved her boys, all of them, but sometimes they were just that. Boys.

Ginny had taken to joining their group as well. It had been awkward at first, her and Harry being broken up and all, but Harry was trying his best to keep it congenial. After a few days, they had slipped into a comfortable camaraderie and all was well.

Hermione continued on her train of girl-loving thought when something mentally smacked her in the face.

Even if it was just in her head, she had referred to Draco by his given name instead of his surname. Merlin's pants, what was happening to her?

Taking a break from a dreadfully boring History of Magic essay that Professor Binns had assigned on the ogre skirmishes of 1543 (and avoiding having to officially sort out her feelings for Draco), Hermione glanced around the grounds only to see a few Ravenclaws spying on the boys from the rafters holding up the stands.

The first Quidditch match of the year was to be Gryffindor against Ravenclaw. It was originally going to be Gryffindor and Slytherin, but Blaise as captain was having issues with finding suitable Chasers. His first three-two girls and a boy, all third years-that were first chosen were remarkable, great additions to the team. Then one of the girls was forced to resign due to poor marks and behavioral issues. The boy just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time during a spectacular argument between Filch and Peeves and jumped sideways to avoid a flying suit of armor, landing on Mrs. Norris' tail.

The boy was still in the hospital wing.

After that, the boy's replacement was kicked off the team for calling Draco and Blaise "Junior Death Eaters" and charming Dark Marks onto the left arms of their robes. Hermione did not know it, but the boy had also made highly inappropriate comments about Hermione's body within earshot of Blaise and Draco.

He was also still in the hospital wing. Apparently the mixture of the several hexes Blaise and Draco had used had rendered the boy mute and Madam Pomfrey had been unable thus far to remove the impressive-looking tusks spouting from the boy's forehead.

Needless to say, with only one Chaser the Slytherin Quidditch team couldn't exactly play. That's why Professor Dumbledore had rearranged the Quidditch schedule, and that was why two Ravenclaws were spying on Harry and Ron's scrimmage with Draco and Blaise.

Hermione's brain whirled. If her boys caught sight of the spies, the two Ravenclaws might never recover. Spying on another team's scrimmage was highly frowned upon in Quidditch, even Hermione knew that. It was considered to be the lowest of the low acts someone could commit. She had to figure out a way to get the boys back to the castle without memory of the routines that they had already observed.

She smiled. Over the summer, she had been in regular correspondence with Mad-Eye Moody, working on a particular variation of the Memory Charm. She figured that when the time came and they had to fight Voldemort and his minions, tampering with a Death Eater's memory might do her conscience better than a brutal fight or even worse, murder. Eventually, around mid-August, Hermione got it right. She never completely erased someone's memory, just selective bits.

"Pans, could you watch my things for a minute? I have to use the loo."

"Sure."

Hermione was glad she had already abandoned her robe, bobby socks, shoes and vest, leaving her in her bare feet, pleated skirt and pressed shirt, and gold and red Gryffindor tie. She conjured a hair tie and pulled the bushy mane back off her neck. The products she had learned to apply to her hair over the summer had been working less and less, to a point where she had just abandoned them altogether. If her hair wanted to look like an unruly tumbleweed, it would and there was nothing Hermione could do about it.

Hermione was also glad for the gymnastics and dance lessons her mother had put her through since she was a young child, as an effort to get her nose out of her books and make some friends. The ten or so years of combined lessons made traveling through the rafters almost soundlessly quite easy. She would have just taken the main staircase down, but then the Ravenclaws would have seen her coming and that was entirely counterproductive to her mission.

Rather like a monkey, Hermione made her way toward the two Ravenclaws. They neither saw nor heard her coming, so she cast the memory charm and Confunded them, sending them on their way back to the castle and making her way back to her seat next to Pansy.

000

Draco had gone after a rogue bludger when he spotted Hermione maneuvering her way through the stands. He almost fell off his broom. What was she, mental? She could fall and die!

"Oi, Granger! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, trying to kill yourself? Let me tell you, there are easier and faster ways than falling and breaking your spine. Probably less painful, too, and less likely to leave you paralyzed instead of just dead." Draco said, pulling next to Hermione on his broomstick.

Hermione.

_Hermione._

When had she become Hermione to him and not just Granger?

He was going insane.

"Relax, Draco-" Draco ignored the jumpstart his heart gave when she said his name and not his last name, when had she started doing that? "-I've been doing this since I was little. I'm fine."

"All the same, I would rather you get on the back of the broom and let me take you up to the stands. Not all of us have the genes of a spider monkey, and I would hate to see you fall and die and cheat me out of someone to snog when there's a storm." Draco laughed when Hermione smacked him on the back of his head.

"Is that all I am to you? Someone to snog?"

Draco detected a layer of unsureness under Hermione's thick coat of teasing, and he pulled her by the waist onto his lap, so she was facing him. "Of course not. Besides the fact that you have got to be the most brilliant person I've ever known, you're also beautiful and great to be around. If I only wanted you for your admittedly wonderful snogging skills, we wouldn't be here right now."

"Oh, wouldn't we?" Hermione mumbled. One of her hands laced itself through the hairs at the nape of his neck and brought his mouth down to meet hers.

It was only through great, great skill that Draco managed to keep them in midair. Hermione's mouth was doing sinful things to his and he was slowly losing control. If she didn't stop...

"Unless you want to die in a particularly painful fashion, you should stop. Now." Draco's voice came out as an unconvincing groan. Accompanied with his hands clenching Hermione closer to his body, Hermione laughed. It was quite obvious that he didn't want her to stop at all.

Hands travelled under robes and beneath shirts. Fingernails lightly scraped along patches of skin. Moans were elicited. Hermione felt a warm pit of tension pool in her stomach, a feeling that she now strictly associated with Draco. Pressed against her skirt was the hard line of evidence of how far this could go if they were in either of their rooms, instead of astride Draco's room in the Quidditch stands.

They needed to stop. As much as Hermione wanted to continue, somewhere where they were alone and private and clothes could be shed, now was not the opportune moment for a romantic interlude.

Mentally distancing herself from her and Draco's current predicament without actually refraining from continuing kissing him, Hermione came up with a battle plan. She removed her hands from Draco's body and raised them to the wooden rafter above her. Before she could lose her nerve and stay intertwined in Draco forever, she lifted herself up off Draco's lap and balanced herself on the beam.

"Later," she said, leaning down and whispering in his ear before placing a final kiss on his lips and making her way back up toward Pansy and her schoolthings.

Draco remained on his broom at a standstill for a few moments, getting his bearings together and watching Hermione climb through the rafters.

"Bloody spider monkey." He called after her. Her resulting laugh made its way back to him, and the grin ghosted across his face stayed there throughout the remainder of his scrimmage with the other boys.

000

Hermione should have realized that retaining the upper hand with Draco was nigh impossible.

Two hours later on the way to supper, Draco gently pushed Hermione into an unused corridor behind a tapestry hanging near a portrait of Barnabus the Barmy. If it had been anyone else, she would have cursed their toes off. As it was, Draco was extensively lucky that he had thought to slip her wand into his robes pocket before cornering her against the wall and practically assaulting her lips with his. Both of his hands clenched near painfully on her waist, pulling her close enough to him that she could hear his heartbeat and yet she still wanted him to pull her closer, hold her tighter. Before too long she was raised up on the stone wall, held in place by the wall on her back and Draco on her front, her legs wrapped around her waist.

When Draco pulled away after a minute, Hermione growled for the first time in her life in a way that was unrelated to being unable to find a bit of information in the library.

"Tease," Hermione spat at Draco.

"Oh you're one to talk, spider monkey. Leaving me high and dry all alone on my broom on the Quidditch pitch just to see you swing through the rafters. Nice underwear, by the way. You should wear green more often."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Oh, so now I'm Malfoy again? And here I was, thinking we had made progress."

"I hope you don't think you're going to get away with this."

"Of course I don't. That's what makes this rapport so fun."

000

By the time the end of the day had arrived, when Draco was finishing up an essay for Ancient Runes near ten o'clock by the fire, all thoughts of Hermione's revenge had fled his mind. Therefore, he wasn't at all expecting her to knock his essay and quill out of his hands and plop into his lap, snog him within an inch of his life and quickly retreat to her own room, magically locking the door behind her so as to not allow Draco to retaliate during the night.

"Teasing little spider monkey!" Draco called, sure that she could hear him as she walked away.

"It's your turn now, snake boy."

Ancient Runes essay abandoned, Draco stayed up into the wee hours of the night plotting his next move against Hermione.

**I'm actually physically ashamed at how long it took me to finish this. Look at it this way: I only have three weeks of Glee left before the season is over and I have my last day of high school on May 25th. After that, I have much more time freed up for writing. I have something funny to say as well: for the free-response essay to my AP English 12 essay, I wrote about Harry Potter and I made that essay my bitch. **

**If you want to follow me on tumblr: elchoppo . tumblr . com**

**If you want to follow me on twitter: elchoppo**


	12. The Mischievous Machinations of A Malfoy

**Hi everyone. I have no excuse for my actions, but I have an explanation. I graduated high school a little while ago, I've been working, and I got sucked into the Avengers fandom (also, if anybody has any good Steve/Tony or Thor/Jane or Loki/Natasha fics to recommend, on here or on livejournal or on AO3, I'd appreciate it).**

The school was unsurprised when Draco and Hermione went public. It took a few weeks, several heated snogging session and lots of ribbing from the rest of their group of friends, but the two finally let it be known that they were together.

The morning in the Great Hall when Draco publicly greeted Hermione with a kiss on the lips showed many Galleons changing hands throughout the student population. Harry was sure that he even saw Professor Trelawney hand over a few Sickles to Professor Flitwick, who chortled merrily and continued eating his bacon.

Draco, amidst the usual breakfasttime cacophony heightened by his and Hermione's actions, caught Snape's eye from across the hall. Being the accomplished Legilimens that he was, Severus was able to essentially project his inward feelings onto Draco. A definite sense of shock, a taste of "I should have seen this coming, shouldn't I?" and a feeling of foreboding hit Draco as he continued eye contact with Severus.

He thought back to all those times he had threatened other students in the school with saying that his father would hear about it. In light of the approaching war between the Light and the Dark, and the fact that Draco refused to hide his relationship with Hermione in the shadow like some sort of dirty little secret (plus the fear that Hermione would hex his manly bits off if he even suggested it), Draco was sure that his father would definitely hear of his relationship with a muggleborn.

000

Even with all of the breakfast madness, Hermione could feel that Draco was tense about something. Sure, he laughed with the rest of the group as Ron tried to virtually inhale a waffle in between two pancakes. He groaned with the rest of the group as Blaise and Neville got into a very bromantic discussion over a plant they were due to study that week in Herbology. Draco even managed to make a few quips about the bets that were placed on their relationship. But Hermione wasn't the brightest witch of her age for nothing. She noticed the tension behind his eyes as he had a brief, silent conversation with Professor Snape across the hall.

Hermione would bet all the Galleons in Harry's vault that Professor Snape had been warning Draco about his family. As much as she loved Draco, she was extremely apprehensive about his parents. They were Death Eaters, and she was a muggleborn, and now their only son was in a relationship with her.

She hoped that Lucius wouldn't take it upon himself to do something drastic. They weren't even out of Hogwarts yet, wouldn't be for several months. Hermione Jean Granger had some big plans for the Wizarding world, and she needed to be alive to put them into action.

000

Weeks passed without incident. Autumn was quickly thrust upon the students of Hogwarts, indian summer days disappearing in lieu of early mornings where the wind was biting enough to need a scarf and evenings where the beauty of the foliage was marred by a thickening load of homework. Halloween came and went. Peeves outdid himself that year, forging a brief alliance with a few trickster students (Hermione secretly suspected that Fred and George, with the permission of Professor Dumbledore, had snuck back into the school for one last glorious prank, one that wasn't aimed at taking Umbridge's regime down a notch) and managing to turn Filch's hair and tatty brown overcoat into a shade of the vividest pink.

It wasn't until halfway through November that anything remarkable occured.

The gang had been down at the Quidditch pitch in their normal positions-Harry, Ron, Blaise and Draco in the skies while Hermione and Pansy sat in the stands, foregoing homework in favor of cups of warm butterbeer-for nearly four hours before Draco took note of Hermione and Pansy's shivers and decided that they should take their fun to the Head dormitories. Waiting for them in the Head common room was none other than Lucius Malfoy himself, sitting on one of the comfier chairs by the fire and acting as if he owned the place.

The laughter that had only seconds before been ringing throughout the halls as Ron told a joke about Madam Rosmerta and Hagrid in a very compromising position during the last Hogsmeade trip-"I mean, bloody hell! I thought he was still into the woman who ran Beauxbatons but apparently Hagrid has a little siren blood in him in addition to the giant..."-died suddenly as everyone caught sight of Draco's father. Hermione, who had in one second been at the front of the group with Draco's arm thrown lovingly over her shoulder found herself one second later flanked on every side by boys that were at least eight inches taller than she was. It was flattering and unnerving at the same time. She could vividly remember showing all of them up at one point or another. Should push come to shove, Hermione was positive she could hold her own.

"So. It's true. I must say, Draco, I'm disappointed. I thought your mother and I raised you better than to lower yourself to engaging in a relationship with a Mudblood."

Hermione closed her eyes in resignation as the five bodies surrounding her reacted to Lucius' words. The palpable hum of magic as five wands were raised with five different spells at the ready was detectable even to a muggle at that point. If Lucius had wanted it to be a relatively peaceful encounter, he had chosen his words incorrectly.

"Father, in case you've forgotten, you also taught me to fight for what is mine and to refuse to let anyone take away anything from a Malfoy." Draco snarled at his father. Hermione was so shocked at the anger in his tone directed toward his own father that she forgot to be irritated that Draco had insinuated that she was one of his possessions.

"Lower your wands, children. I do not come intending to harm anyone. I merely wished to talk some sense into my son, but it is glaringly obvious that he is unreachable to logic at this point. And apparently everything that I have ever taught you about propriety is gone, seeing the company that you keep these days. Not only are you fraternizing with a Mudblood-" Five wands that had started to be lowered were raised again, and Lucius smirked, "-but a Weasley and Potter as well? Draco, son, come see me when you see sense once more. Over Christmas, perhaps?"

"I won't be returning to the manor if this is the way you insist on treating the people I care about, Father. You say that I have forgotten your lessons? Have you forgotten the years of manner and pureblood protocol instilled in the Malfoys from birth?" The tension in the room between the two generations of the Malfoy family could be cut with a knife. Draco glared at his father with an unrelenting steely gaze. After several silent and extremely tense moments, Lucius crossed the room to the portrait hole.

Hermione was sure he didn't mean to do it. Maybe it was her faith in humans, no matter how bad (with the sole exception of Voldemort), but Hermione would believe until she was proven otherwise that Lucius Malfoy did not mean to bodycheck her as he tried to leave the room. Nonetheless, Hermione was caught off-guard by the sudden weight on her side and stumbled to the floor.

The sudden firing of spells was unnerving. She couldn't be sure of who fired what-it seemed as if her friends had taken her tutoring to heart and finally mastered nonverbal spells-but the plethora of colors above her did not compare to staring down the danger end of Lucius Malfoy's cane/wand as he shot a spell her direction before being thrown out of the dormitory and into the hallway beyond the portrait by the sheer force of her friends' magic.

The last thing Hermione heard was the sound of Draco's shout as her head hit the floor and everything went dark.

000

Draco could count on one hand the amount of times in his life that he'd ever been really and truly terrified: The time when he was seven and he got lost in Knockturn Alley and some old hag tried to claim him as her own and sell her to a bloke who looked like he had consumed one too many potions gone wrong. The Quidditch World Cup. No matter what the best that money could buy was, Draco hated heights and the seats that his father had procured were up so high that his ears were popping for hours after the match had ended. Meeting Lord Voldemort for the first time during the summer before fifth year. Not only was he bloody powerful, the man smelled and Draco was afraid that his giant snake was going to turn on Draco on any moment.

None of those compared to seeing his own father cast some sort of hex on his girlfriend and watching said girlfriend's head hit the stone floor with a sickening, gut-wrenching crack.

Nobody was prepared for the sight that awaited them once the smoke and debris from the various hexes (and his father's removal from the premises) settled.

Practically swimming in robes that were far too large for her was Hermione, although that wasn't the surprising part.

Practically swimming in robes that were far too large for her was Hermione, who appeared to be no larger than five years old.

"Hi! Who are you?" Hermione asked, a smile with two teeth missing forming on the adorably tiny face of his de-aged girlfriend.

"My name is Draco. This is Ron, Harry, Blaise and Pansy. Hermione, do you know where you are?"

"No."

"Well, we're in a school called Hogwarts. Is it okay with you if I take you to the Headmaster?" Draco knew that Dumbledore would be the only one who would be able to sort all of this out. Plus, one of his students just got turned into a small child. Draco figured that the old man probably needed to know things like that.

"Okay. But only because you're pretty. And I'm tired, can you carry me? And can I have a book to read for when I'm there?-" Ron, Harry, Blaise and Pansy sniggered at this, because it was so typical for a Hermione of any age to ask for a book. "-Where are Mum and Daddy? Is this a castle? Are you a prince?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm a prince and don't let anybody tell you otherwise, alright Hermione?" Draco said, kneeling down to grab Hermione by the torso and deposit her on his hip.

"Erm, Draco? Can you put her down for a second?" Pansy said, smiling.

Draco only tightened his hold on Hermione. She was in this mess because of him. There was no way he was going to let any more harm come to her. "And why should I do that?"

"Because she's going to fall out of her clothes at any moment and then not only will we have a tiny Mione, but we'll have a naked and tiny Mione and something tells me that Hogwarts just isn't ready for that yet. I just want to shrink her clothes before we take her to Dumbledore."

Draco cursed Pansy and her logic, and then mentally kicked himself for not considering Hermione's clothes. The girl had to be uncomfortable. He placed Hermione on the floor just long enough for Pansy to cast a Shrinking Charm on Hermione's robes and then he scooped her back in his arms again, where she was safe.

"Come on, Hermione. Let's take you to the headmaster and see if he can get all of this sorted out."

"Okay, but if he can't, can I stay with you?" Hermione said in a small voice, flinging her arms around Draco's neck and burrowing her face in his neck.

"Of course. You can stay with me as long as you like."

"Or me." Ron interjected.

"Or me!" Harry said, lifting a mass of untamed curles from Hermione's head and smiling at her.

Blaise shoved Harry out of the way, a remarkable feat considering that they were all on one of the smaller stairwells. "Or me!"

"Or you can just ignore all of these icky boys and I can keep you!" Pansy said, ignoring Draco's glare.

By the time they all reached Professor Dumbledore's office and Harry had supplied the headmaster's password, each member of the group was valiantly fighting for the position of Hermione's favorite.

"Well, this is an interesting conundrum. Would someone like to do the honor of explaining to me why exactly Miss Granger is a small child?" Professor Dumbledore said after opening the door to his office to see Ron conjure up a bouquet of flowers and present them to Hermione, who refused to let go of Draco long enough to grab them.

"Headmaster, you see..."

**Review please? And tell me what you think of kid!Hermione?**

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